


Rule nr. 8

by allthingsjohnlock



Series: Once a babysitter, always a babysitter.. [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BAMF John, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Clubbing, Coming In Pants, Dancing, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Jealous John, Jealous John Watson, John Plays Rugby, John Watson is a Saint, John is hot, M/M, Protective John Watson, Sassy Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Kissing, Sherlock in Heels, Sherlock in Lingerie, Sherlock in a corset, Sherlock is hot, Shower Sex, Top John Watson, Unilock, Virgin Sherlock, Wall Sex, Work In Progress, all the fluff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, dancing sherlock, doing it up against a glass wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsjohnlock/pseuds/allthingsjohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years later Sherlock and Molly are roommates at Uni. Sherlock tells Molly about this idea he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers,
> 
> So this is part two of a series. I suggest you go read part one because the storyline will make more sense if you do. However, part one is quite long and there is NO sex in it, so I'm sorry if that isn't to your liking. I do promise I will make it up to you in part two. Lots of smut, so if that is not your thing I'll tell you now: you better leave. RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN, PROTECT YOUR INNOCENCE! 
> 
> Kidding, of course. There is quite an amount of sexual talk in this chapter but nothing actually happening. It'll be a slow burn, because I like that, no PWP for me. 
> 
> Anyways, I think I said everything there was to say.
> 
> Enjoy!

Truth is, Sherlock became quite the normal teenager after John went to London, it’s to say, nothing extraordinary happened to him. His high school experience actually took a turn for the better. He had friends for life. A smart girl that didn’t take shit from anybody and her boyfriend, a rugby player who looked strong and tough but was actually the nicest guy alive. 

And even better, luck was on his side. Not only did he actually have friends, but in the years that followed Sherlock grew out of his awkward and scrawny children’s body. He grew even taller, in sixth form he was one of the tallest kids in school even though he was younger than most of the others. He was still skinny but more so lean than just skin and bones. The thing is, he didn’t have any fat, his eating habits were still very unusual, but he had a healthy amount of muscles instead. Heaven knows how he managed to grow some muscles, he despised sports, but the muscles were there all the same. 

It was in sixth form as well that he gathered he wasn’t an ugly duckling. The exact moment he realised was on a Thursday afternoon at around 5pm. He was in the checkout line at Tesco’s, patiently awaiting his turn when the person behind him started talking to him. He remained friendly but distant – what any normal British person would do – when all of a sudden Sherlock understood, the girl was flirting with him. It was the second person that week and the 5th person that month. That’s when the penny dropped. 

Before, he always thought people were nice to him because they needed something from him. Like that girl from English who he previously supposed wanted to be his project partner because Sherlock was the best student, and she really wasn’t. He had agreed, he preferred working alone of course, but most teachers wouldn’t let him. So if anyone asked he would gladly take them up on that in stead of working with someone that wouldn’t want him as a partner. The girl however was quite useless. The only thing she did was blush, stare and blink her eyes way too much. But now Sherlock recognised it for what it was: ridiculous flirtation techniques. 

When he looked in the mirror however he just saw an unusual face. It was long and pale, his cheekbones were too sharp, his nose was odd-looking, he had cold, silvery eyes and his hair was still a mess. He had decided to ask Molly about it. Her answer went something like this: “Sherlock, of course you’re handsome, remember how I had a big ol’ crush on you three years ago?”

He always forgot Molly used to be as awkward as he was, when he looked back to that day and age he’s always surprised at how much they have changed. It was amazing how much they still talked. Molly had graduated last year and was also attending Uni in London now but they regularly spoke. She frequently came home to visit her family and Sherlock and her would always go to Mrs Hudson’s bakery to catch up. Most of the time though, Sherlock would ask her millions of questions about college applications and living on your own. One day, Mrs Hudson overheard them talking and suggested they should become roommates. 

That’s how the ball went rolling. The more they had talked about it the more logical it seemed that they should move in together. It would reduce the costs, Molly’s parents liked that that Molly wouldn’t be living by herself or with strangers and Sherlock’s mother was happy that Sherlock wouldn’t be by himself as well. And so they began searching for apartments. 

The august after Sherlock turned 17 he had started packing up his possessions and three weeks later he was standing in a small living room in an apartment on the second floor of a tall building with Molly by his right side. 

“Ok, I think we’re officially moved in.” Molly said.

“Seems so.” Sherlock answered, looking around the flat once more. “What do we do now?”

“Celebrate? Go out? Go to a pub? There’s one on the corner of the street.” 

“Mm, rather not.”

“Ok, diner then? I’m not really in the mood for cooking after today.”

“Dito. What about take out? I look a mess, and frankly, so do you. No one would have to look at us if we stay inside…” Sherlock was in no mood to get out of their new flat today.

“Ok, first of all, thanks. Second, I could eat Thai.”

“I’ll look for a Thai place nearby.” Sherlock fished his phone out of his pocket and started searching the Internet for a Thai place that would deliver. 

Almost an hour later they were eating from those white carton containers on the couch while they were watching TV. Well, the TV was on, but neither one of them was actually watching the show. Molly was texting Greg, that relationship was still going strong, and Sherlock was exploring their new neighbourhood on Google Maps. 

“How’s Greg?”

“Mhm?”

“Greg, you’re texting him, right? How is he doing?”

“He’s fine. Says he wants to come visit, but I told him he shouldn’t come over tonight. Tonight is us-time.” 

“What-time?”

“Us-time, you and me, new roommates and all.”

“And what does this us-time entail then? Each of us doing separate things while sitting on the couch? Tell him he can come over. I really don’t mind.”

“Actually, this reminds me, we should make up a list of rules.”  
“Excuse me, this isn’t kindergarten, is it?” Sherlock turned his head around frantically, his curls whipping about to hard they were almost hitting him in the face.

“Don’t be ridiculous. No just a set of rules like, who should cook when, when is company allowed, when cleaning day is... You know, just things like that. I think that if there are a couple of rules that we might avoid having a domestic in the future. You see where I’m going with this?”

“Yes, okay, very well. We’ll do that then, will it take a long time, because I have important stuff to do.”

Molly rolled her eyes but stood up from the couch to step over to their small table. “No, it won’t take long. I’ll tell Greg he can come over. He’ll be here within the hour, I’m sure we’ll be done by then.”

She sat down and opened a Word document on her laptop.

Forty minutes later they were done and the document was rolling out of the printer. 

Sherlock stood up to retrieve it. “Ugh, Molly, pink and with kittens? Really?” He was looking over the list of rules they had made up and the calendar which Molly added to make it all a bit more structured. She had done a great job but the finishing touches were so Molly-like that Sherlock could not hold a straight face, slight disgust was painted over his features. He picked the paper up and walked over to the kitchen to hang it on the refrigerator with a small magnet, also a kitten. 

Molly came and stood next to him. “Well, it fits nicely with the magnet.” They shared a smile and Molly continued, “if we just stick to this I think we might survive the first month conflict free.” She looked at Sherlock and said “Promise me you’ll try your best.”

Sherlock returned her look and solemnly said “I promise”. 

“Okay, good. That’s settled then.”

Sherlock left her behind in their kitchen and sat himself at Molly’s laptop doing God knows what. Molly however went over to their door and started putting some clothes on. 

“Where are you going? I thought Greg was coming over?”

“He is, I just realised we don’t have anything to drink except tap water and tea. I’m going to Tesco’s real quick. Would you like something to nibble on?”

“Pop corn sounds nice.”

“You got it.” 

A couple of seconds later Sherlock heard the door slam shut. Sherlock was just about to post an extraordinary mean comment on a relative’s Facebook page about their new boyfriend when he heard the doorbell ring. 

He let out a big sigh before standing up. He opened the door without really looking up, assuming it was Molly.

“First time you leave and you already forget your keys? Molly, please, I expected more from you.” 

By the time he finished his little rant of annoyance he was already sitting down in front of the laptop that wasn’t his. He heard the door slam shut again but noticed the hesitation there. So maybe it wasn’t Molly?

He looked up just in time to hear Greg say, “well, if you bothered to look at the person in front of your door you might notice that it isn’t actually your beautiful flatmate.”

There was a quirky smile on Greg’s face and when he noticed Sherlock’s slightly taken aback expression his smile turned into a giggle. 

“I assume Molly’s out then? I thought she told me to come here?” He took out his phone to check for any missed messages but didn’t see anything. 

“She went out to get you something to drink. I assume some cheap brand of beer.”

“Right, just us then.”

Sherlock wasn’t really paying attention anymore because he had noticed something else about his cousin’s new boyfriend. That boy was full of secrets. Greg, however, didn’t really mind that he was being ignored, he knew about Sherlock’s strange and anti-social quirks so without actually waiting for an invitation to come in he did so anyways and started looking around the newly furnished flat. 

“This is nice. It’s very cosy.” Greg said, without really expecting a reply.

“Mhmmm.”

Greg wandered further into the kitchen and noticed their newly thought up rule system. 

“What’s this all about?”

“Mhm?” Sherlock still wasn’t really paying attention.

“These rules. What’s up with those?” Sherlock looked up from Molly’s laptop.

“Oh, yeah, Molly’s idea. Just some rules to avoid any fights we might have.”  
“That’s pretty smart of my girl, you know, considering…” He looked over at Sherlock, saw his face, challenging him to finish his thoughts, but stopped talking mid sentence. 

“So, no sex then?” 

“Read it again please, rule nr. 8 clearly states that sex _is_ allowed, just not in common areas, and preferably quiet. I’m sure you can understand, I don’t want to see or hear you two going at it and I’m sure the same applies to you.”

Greg burst out a single ‘HA’. “I can’t imagine that ever happening.”

“Excuse you?”

“You know, you and a girlfriend.”

“Yes, well, _that_ seems very unlikely.”

“Oh, sorry, boyfriend?” 

“More likely, yes. Actually I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot. You know, college and experimenting and all that. I think it’s time for me to see what’s out there, see what I like or don’t like. I think I’ve got the basics down, you know, no girls, just boys. But then, then there is so much more to try and learn. I think I might like oral sex a lot. But what about penetrative sex? I’m sure I’d like topping, but I read that bottoming might also be very satisfactory with the prostate stimulation and …”

The more he talked the more he saw Greg’s face turn red until he just burst out: “Whoa, Sherlock, too much information. Stop talking please. I get it and you’re right. I do not need to see or hear it. I stand by rule nr. 8.” 

He had walked over to their couch and dropped into it just as they heard the rattling of keys and then the door swung open. Molly wobbled inside with in one hand a six-pack of not very expensive beers and a bag in her other hand. 

Greg shot up from the couch to help his girlfriend. She handed him the six-pack of beer, stood on her tippy toes and pursed her lips, waiting for Greg to cross the space. Greg gave her a big sloppy kiss and turned to put the beers into the fridge. Molly peered after her boyfriend with a big scowl on her face.

“Why are you blushing?”

“Umh, uh, nothing, I’m not blushing!” Molly’s face turned into a full on frown. “Sherlock, what did you do?”

“I didn’t _do_ anything. I was just telling him about my plan.”

“What plan?” She asked with a slight worry in her voice.

“My sexual experiment plan.” 

Now Molly’s face showed pure shock. She quickly looked at Greg, trying to get support from him but he just shrugged his shoulders and said “I wouldn’t really ask about it or he’ll start a full-on ramble about oral and penetrative sexual experiences. It’s all things you don’t want to hear, Molls, I can assure you. Just be glad rule 8 is implemented and that you won’t ever have to see it.”

Molly was still shocked. “Sherlock, tell me you won’t treat this as just another experiment. You’re talking about other people here. Not just you and some chemical products. People might get hurt. _You_ might get hurt.” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, please. I haven’t even decided what to do yet, it’s just an idea.” 

“Okay. Just be careful, and if you ever have questions or concerns you can always come to me,” she hesitated for a second and then added, "or Greg". 

She looked over at Greg begging for his support, which he showed by nodding slightly. 

“What? Because you’re so experienced after dating the same person for three years? You’ll be quite surprised to know I know all there is to know, thank you very much. Virgins can watch porn too, you know.”

Molly still couldn’t quite believe they’d been talking about sex for the last five minutes but now she was completely shocked, so shocked even that she didn’t know what to say. After a small pause, in which neither Greg nor Molly knew how to react Sherlock just continued. 

“Thanks for your concern but sex really doesn’t alarm me. And, Molly, if there ever is anything you’ll be the first I’d come to for advice, you know that, you’re the only person I trust.”

With that statement he closed Molly’s laptop, stood up and went into his bedroom. Right before he closed the door he spoke, “enjoy the movie and remember rule nr. 8”.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is in action and Greg has a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, new chapter.
> 
> Excuse the mistakes.There is already some sexual action going on, but not that much.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!

“What are you wearing?” Molly asked when she noticed Sherlock’s outfit. It was early Friday morning and in Molly’s opinion way too early to have a serious conversation. But with Sherlock walking around like that it was unavoidable. 

“Clothes.”

“Yes, I can see that, it’s just that, well, I can see you nipples.”

“Can you?” Sherlock looked down at his chest and turned his torso this and that way so that it caught the light in different ways. “Oooh, you can! Brilliant.”

“Why do you want people to see your nipples?” Her face was showing slight disgust. 

“Molly, don’t be so prudish. I’m going out tonight, I was just checking which outfit I should wear. I think I found the one, though.”

“Seriously, you’re going out wearing that? Where are you going? And, er, who are going with? Oh, do you have a date?”

“Yes, this outfit will suffice for what I’ve planned tonight. I don’t know yet, probably a gay club, and I’m flying solo tonight, so, no date.” 

“Do you want me to come along? I could you know, I could ask Greg to come along. We know this club. It’s actually quite nice there, I’ve been there once, not too long ago. I think I told you about that. It’s so nice going out and having a dance and just being able to get drunk without having to worry about unwanted attention, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. And actually that’s not the plan.”

“Well, you probably _will_ get noticed, with your nipples screaming for attention. So, we can tag along?”

“Sure, but don’t get in my way. I have a plan and nobody’s going to be my bloody bodyguard, deal?”

“Fine. I’ll tell Greg about it, see if he’s up for it.”

***

“Sherlock, are you sure this is a good idea? Why don’t we just go out tonight, have a good time and forget about your plan?” Molly was standing beside Sherlock who was twisting his body around in the human-sized mirror by front door, trying to check himself out. He was wearing his see-through shirt again, with some slightly too tight pants and he’d applied a little bit of eyeliner to make his eyes even more noticeable.

“Why are you being a party pooper?”

“I don’t know, I’m concerned I guess, your just 17 and I think you’re playing a dangerous game here.”

“There is no game here, Molly. It’s just me, looking for some action. By the way, do I have to remind you that you were 16 when you lost your virginity to Greg? To that I can say that I am already 17 and in college. I think I’m quite old enough to make decisions by myself, I don’t need a fairy godmother to look after me.”

“Well yes, but I lost my virginity to someone I trusted, someone I knew, someone you knew, even. Not some stranger in a club that happens to show some interest. Are you seeing where I’m going with this? They could have some awful disease you don’t know about or they could just be a bad person.” 

“Molly, please, I’m not a lost puppy here. I know about AIDS or other STI’s. I’ll be careful, it’s not that complicated. And if it will make you feel better, I won’t do anything serious with anybody until we come and have a quick chat. Though I doubt if that will make anything better, I mean, I’m far better at reading people than you are. But if it’ll ease your mind, I’ll do it.”

“It will, that sounds good, Sherlock, thank you.”

“Okay, when is Greg coming, I thought you told him to be here at 10?” 

“Oh, he was going to run late. He texted me the address though so should we just go on without him? He can come find us.”

“Fine, I’ll just wait until your ready then.” Sherlock looked her over very quickly.

“I am ready.”

“Oh, really?” Molly was irritated by the actual surprise on his face. 

“Yes, Sherlock, I don’t really need to get all dolled up, you see, I already have a boyfriend. And by the way, I don’t need it.”

“Well, nobody _needs_ it, but it’s still fun. And you can do it just for you. Come on, what do you want? Do you want me to curl your hair? That could be fun! Or, er, put on some lipstick? Actually, I should do that, don’t you think?” He looked back at himself in the mirror and pouted his lips a bit. 

“Hold on.” He turned to his room and left Molly behind, questioning what she was going to do with him tonight. He seemed far too excited about this. She could hear him open and close different drawers and rummage through them.

“Apparently I don’t have any lipstick, but I found this.” He stood in the door opening of his room and held up some lip-gloss. “That’ll suffice for now. Come here, Molly.”

“Er, okay then.” She turned to him and let him carry on. When he was done she turned back to the mirror and was actually satisfied with the result. “Mhm, that’s nice.”

“You see it looks really good. Your lips are far too thin generally.” 

“Thanks,” Molly mumbled. 

He pushed her aside a bit so he could apply some himself and stepped back to look at the result. They were standing next too each other in their outfits and there was only one thing that was on Molly’s mind.

“It kind of looks like we’ve been making out, doesn’t it?”

“That’s gross, but you’re right.”

Molly should’ve been offended by Sherlock’s comment but she couldn’t help but smile. 

“Still though,” continued Sherlock, “we look great.” 

Molly could only agree. 

“Ready?”

“Ready!” She picked the keys from table by the door and flicked the light off right before Sherlock closed the door behind him. 

***

They were in the cab when Molly decided to have another go at asking Sherlock about his infamous plan.

“What does the plan have in store for tonight, then?”

“I think I’m just going to check what or who is out there. See if this works,” he waved his hand over his outfit, “and see what the general reactions are. Just a test run, basically.”

“Oh, so nothing big yet, tonight.”

Sherlock looked over at Molly who didn’t realise how wrongly her sentence could be interpreted. She only realised when she noticed Sherlock’s knowing face and rolled her eyes.

“Ugh, come on. You know what I mean.”

“I do and no, I haven’t planned anything specific for tonight.” 

“Good. I think we’re almost there. This is definitely the right neighbourhood,” she said when she was observing the people outside the cab. 

Sherlock had been peering out the window at the same time and had to agree. There were a numerous amount of extravagant outfits, hairdos and made up faces out there. The one more extreme than the other, but there were also very modest outfits walking among the masses. 

When the cab stopped in front of a red brick building with a big black gate, with some bouncers on both sides and way to many flashing light effects they stepped out and checked the street for Greg. 

“I guess he isn’t here yet, otherwise he would’ve texted. So shall we go inside, Sherlock?”

He nodded once. “Let’s.”

They followed a group of five people as they went inside. It was still quite early in the evening so there wasn’t a line yet, though at the pace people were entering there might actually be a line very soon. 

“I hope for you that Greg is on his way, because this place seems like it’s extremely popular.”

“Mhm, I told you Greg comes here more often, he knows some of the bouncers. Actually he sometimes works as a bouncer here, when the usuals are unavailable or if there is a special event or something. So, he can get in without having to stand in line.”

By the end of her explanation Sherlock really had to lean into her to keep hearing what she was saying. They had entered the main room where the dance floor and the bar were. There was already a decent crowd on the dance floor shaking their butts like their life depended on it and when Sherlock looked over at the bar he saw a big group around it, trying to get the attention from the few waiters behind it. 

Molly followed his gaze and then said: “I think it’s best if you go get us something to drink”. 

“Sure, what do you want?”

“Just a coke will do for now.”

He left Molly behind and tried to find his way towards the bar. Good thing he was tall and skinny, that way he could squeeze between the pack of people easily and still see where he was going. He reached the bar quite quickly and was able to order right away. Within five minutes he was back again, handing Molly her coke. 

“That was quick.”

“Yes, I think that lip-gloss was the best idea I’ve ever had. It really seems to be doing the trick. I stopped counting how many people stared at my lips, no one interesting though. Any word from Greg?

“No, not yet.”

“Ok, wanna go dance, then?”

“Yes, please!”

They weaved their way to the centre of the dance floor and started shaking. Molly knew that from the two of them, Sherlock was the best dancer. He had rhythm, he could move his long limbs in-sync with the music and he just made his body move in the most sensuous ways. It was truly difficult to take your eyes off of him and soon Molly realised she wasn’t the only person with that particular hiccup. 

She did a little twirl and noticed that basically every pair of eyes in their near vicinity was on her dance partner. In some ways this pleased her, Sherlock was good-looking and for some reason he was still quite insecure. But in other ways it worried her too. She was worried that not everyone would have good intentions and Sherlock was still young and naïve. She just hoped Sherlock knew what he was doing and that he would think twice before he got into something serious. 

She was just about to lean in and tell him how everyone was staring at him when she felt her boob vibrate. She pulled the phone out of her bra and read Greg’s text.

**’I’m here, with a surprise!’**

She turned the screen around so Sherlock could read it. He looked at her questioningly. She shrugged and moved her head towards the exit, asking him if he was coming along, but he shook his head.

She shouted she’d be right back but she doubted he heard or saw her. He was already turning and kept dancing to the music. 

Molly turned towards the exit and when she was finally out of the centre of the crowd she texted back.

‘ **Where are you? I’m coming out.** ’

Before she hit send, however, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She twirled around and first saw her boyfriends before she saw the person behind him. She almost couldn’t believe it; her jaw was almost touching the ground. John. Watson. Greg was trying to give his girlfriend a quick peck but Molly wasn’t having it. She pushed him aside and enveloped John in a big hug. 

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it. John Watson. Jesus Christ, I never thought I’d see you again.” She turned back to her boyfriend and screamed into his ear. “How did you find him?”

“Why don’t you and John go to the other room and chat, I’ll get us something to drink.” He lifted his face towards the bar and started heading that way. John looked puzzled for a second but Molly grabbed his arm and led the way out of the main room. Right before they stepped through the double doors though she cast a look at the centre of the room. She saw Sherlock, still dancing, but instead of Molly in front of him, there was now a tall blond fellow. She could tell from a distance that he had some striking features and thought they’d be an attractive couple. She also noticed the happy and slightly devious expression on Sherlock’s face and knew she could leave him by himself for a few minutes before she would return to keep an eye on him. 

She pulled John through the hall, which was buzzing with people, to a more quiet corner of the cloakroom. 

“John, how did Greg find you? We have been trying to find you all through last year.” The truth is that everyone fell out of touch with John. He didn’t have Facebook and apparently he had changed his phone number. He had totally gone of the radar and Molly and Greg were afraid John had gone into the military or had gone to study in a different city and that they would never find him again.

“Totally accidental, actually. I came here to party a couple of weeks ago and Greg was standing at the door.” 

“You have to be kidding me. You have no idea how hard we’ve tried to get in touch with you and then you just turn up where he works, it’s ridiculous.”

“Why didn’t you just ask Sherlock, he would’ve just given you my number.”

“We couldn’t now, could we, it would ruin the surprise.”

“What surprise?”

“Well yes, you, of course.”

“Why am I a surprise?”

“We want you guys to reunite.”

“Okay, why though? Does he want to see me? I really doubt it. If Sherlock wanted to talk to me he could’ve just texted me? He does have my number, I mean I send him several happy birthday texts.”

“We just think he’s still angry with you because you left.”

“I didn’t leave! I went to London, it’s not the end of the world now, is it? I couldn’t just stay and be his babysitter forever. He didn’t need one anymore.”

“John, you bloody well know you weren’t just his babysitter. You were basically his only friend. I’m also quite certain he was in love with you.”

“He what? He was thirteen years old. I was seventeen, that could never happen.”

“We know that, he knew that and you knew that, too. So, that’s why we tried to find you. He’s not thirteen anymore. He’s seventeen and you’re what? Twenty-one? Can you see where I’m going with this?” 

“I’m not gay!” He practically shouted. That’s when Greg approached with their drinks.

“You’re not? Then why did I find you at a gay club?” Greg was just teasing him, of course, but apparently John didn’t think it was that funny.

“Oh, come on! A straight person is not allowed to have gay friends?”

“John, I’m just kidding. We’re not forcing you to be his boyfriend, but it might be fun for you two to be friends again. Clear up the misunderstandings and such.”

“I don’t have any misunderstandings. It’s up all up to Sherlock, but if he doesn’t want to see me, I don’t think we should push him. As you said, he’s a grown-up now, he can make his own decisions.”

“Yes, he can, but sometimes he needs to be pushed because that boy is the most stubborn person on the planet. Aren’t you the least bit curious about him?” Molly asked.

“Of course I am.”

“Well then, let’s go.” 

***

In the meantime Sherlock was having the time of his life. The music was good, his dancing was off the charts and the people around him were all beautiful. Everything seemed to be going according to plan. From the moment Molly had stepped off the dance floor, multiple people had tried to fill up her empty space. The person who had ‘won’ in the end was handsome, to say the least. He was tall, quite muscled and had long blond hair. Well, not very long, just shoulder length, but Sherlock thought it was a very appealing feature. He looked quite a bit older than Sherlock, which he liked because it probably meant he had plenty of experience. They had been making eyes at each other for the past two minutes and Sherlock decided that if this man were to make a move that he would be very amenable to it. 

And that’s when it happened. Sherlock was just starting to wonder what on earth took Molly and Greg so long to get back when the man leaned into Sherlock and shouted into his ear, “You are the most beautiful dancer I’ve ever seen.” He pulled back and had a very hopeful look on his face. Sherlock figured he should compliment him back. That’s what flirting mostly was, right? He leaned in.

“Thank you. I think I’m in love with your hair.” He took a good sniff and nuzzled even closer to the man’s ear. “Mhm, and it smells great too.” 

Before Sherlock knew it they were standing so close together that he could feel the man’s body heat. Neither of them leaned away and so they kept standing flushed against each other, still somewhat moving in time with the beat. 

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Sherlock, yours?”

“Victor. You want to get out of here, Sherlock?” That was quick. Sherlock had a plan, however, and he was going to stick to that. Nothing big was going to happen tonight, he’d promised Molly, and to tell the truth, he knew he was not ready for any big steps to be taken just yet. So he shook his head and shouted into Victor’s ear. “No, I want to dance!” 

Victor’s big, strong hands had found their way to Sherlock’s lower back. Nor Victor or Sherlock wanted them to move anywhere else, so that where to stayed put. Sherlock was gazing into Victor’s eyes and moved his hands from Victor’s lower arms up to his shoulders. One hand sneaked behind his neck and held on to the base of his skull, fingers weaving through his hair, while his other hand slipped back down to his strong bicep. Their torsos were leaning back a little bit but their hips were still flushed together. Sherlock realised this was the most intimate he had ever been with another person and he knew he was starting to blush. 

He hated the fact that he was still a blushing virgin and tried to hide his face. He tugged Victor a bit closer so that he could whisper some nonsense in his ear but mostly to hide his blushing. Victor, however, had something else in mind. Suddenly Sherlock found himself not able to breathe, not because of shock but mostly because something was covering his mouth. It took a few seconds for Sherlock before it dawned on him. Victor was kissing him. 

He didn’t immediately participate because of several reasons. First of all, he didn’t really know how to reciprocate. But most of all, or that’s what he told himself anyway was because he wanted to analyse what he was experiencing. The lips were soft; he also did not feel any teeth. He could smell mint, so either Victor had just chewed some minty gum or he had just brushed his teeth, either way, Sherlock liked it very much. He could also smell a little bit of alcohol, not beer or wine though; something more sophisticated, Martini, maybe? Before he could open his mouth and try to taste some of it though, the soft lips were torn away from his. He opened his eyes and saw that the tall person with the long blond hair, that was standing before him just seconds ago, was now replaced by a shorter person, with short blond hair. A person he had tried to forget but never really knew how.

John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I'd love some feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock reunite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, enjoy.

John followed Molly and Greg back to the main room of the club. When they were standing right near the side of the dance floor, which was about three steps lower, they had a pretty good view over the dancing masses and the noise wasn’t as loud as it was on the dance floor itself. Molly noticed there were quite a few more people out there then ten minutes before. She started looking over the heads right at the centre but couldn’t immediately find Sherlock. 

“We were dancing right at the centre, so he should still be there.” She shouted, leaning into John’s ear. She looked over to Greg and saw he was also looking over the mass of dancing people. They stood there, for like half a minute before John tapped Molly on the shoulder. 

“Sherlock has a boyfriend, then?”

“Ha, no!” She shook her head violently and quite amused.

“Then why is his face is currently being swallowed up by a dude who looks like he could be 28 years old?” John was pointing his finger a little bit more to the left side of the dance floor. 

“What?” Molly’s head shot back, trying to follow the imaginary line from John’s finger to Sherlock. She took a great big gasp and exclaimed: “O MY GOD!”

“Do you know him?” John asked. She shook her head again, not really being able to get her eyes off the two of them. She had to admit it was pretty strange to see Sherlock kissing. She had imagined herself doing that particular act years ago, but now, looking at it from a distance, it just seemed off, somehow.

“So, he’s kissing a total stranger?”

Molly could only nod at first, but then coughed and found her voice again. 

“You see, he has this plan.” She stopped for a second, trying to get the right words to describe the plan. John could only wait, with an expectant look on his face, secretly dying to know what Sherlock was up to now. “He said he wasn’t planning anything big tonight but in general his plan is to get laid, a lot, and then see what he likes best, or something.”

“And he plans on doing that with total strangers?”

“Looks like it.”

“Right.”

And before anyone could do anything about it John strode of towards the floor. He took the three steps down and disappeared from view for a couple of seconds. Molly returned her gaze towards Sherlock, who was still kissing that guy. He did look quite a lot older; she hadn’t really noticed that before. Also, it looked like they weren’t just kissing. It seemed as though there was a whole lot of grinding going on. 

All of a sudden they weren’t kissing anymore, they weren’t even standing close to each other. She assumed John had separated them but couldn’t quite see him. That guy was standing in her way and he was a tall fellow, so naturally John would be hidden behind his tall frame. 

She looked over at her right side, where Greg was standing; he looked equally as concerned as her. 

“I hope there isn’t a fight about to break loose. Should we go over there?”

“John is smart enough not to let that happen, right? I mean, have you looked at that guy? He’s gigantic!”

“Don’t underestimate John, Molls, he can be quite frightening if he wants to be. One thing is certain, I do not want to be Sherlock Holmes right now, by the looks of it.” 

While John was out of view for the both of them, Sherlock was not. They were too far away to see the exact expression on his face, but it was clear he was surprised. Futhermore, he wasn’t doing anything. The behaviour was so out of character that it concerned Molly to no extend. 

***

He couldn’t move. Right after John had pulled the tall guy off of Sherlock, the boy went into some sort of shock. His mind was racing.

John. John. John. Wait, was it really him? He shook himself out of his panic mode and focused his eyes again. He couldn’t have been in his own mind for long because John was still there, though he wasn’t exactly quiet. He was yelling at him. No that’s not really the right way to subscribe it, fuming is more like it. There was almost steam coming out his ears. EARS! That reminded Sherlock, he should be listening to what he was saying, shouldn’t he? 

“… think you’re doing? Huh? Who the bloody fuck is this guy?” He pointed over his shoulder. “What were you thinking, Sherlock. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to get a bloody disease? Because you’re certainly on the right track to get one!”

What was he talking about? Sherlock couldn’t quite remember what he was doing right before John showed up, so it couldn’t really be that important, could it? The more important questions, however, were: ‘why is John here? And why is he yelling at me?’ Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t Sherlock be the one yelling? 

He started listening in again. “Sherlock? Sherlock! Are you even listening to me?” 

Oh, good, John asked him a question, he should answer then. 

“Why are you here, John?”

“I am your surprise. Greg and Molly invited me.”

“Surprise? I don’t know anything about a surprise?”

“That’s why it’s a surprise, you idiot.”

“Then why are you yelling at me, aren’t surprises supposed to be fun?”

“Well, apparently I’m a surprise with a mission to stop you from doing something idiotic.”

“What are you talking about? I’m just dancing!”

“Didn’t really look like it. Apparently you were planning to get an STI form this guy!” He halfway turned around and pointed his thumb at the tall blond behind him. 

“Hey, now, hold on.” That tall blond interjected. “I don’t have any diseases and by the way, who the fuck are you?”

“I’m John, hello, nice to meet you.” He shot out drily. “I’m Sherlock’s babysitter. Did you know he’s only seventeen?”

“No, I didn’t, he doesn’t look seventeen, though.” He winked at Sherlock, big grin on his face. “But I really don’t want to get into trouble so, er,” he threw up his hands, “ I think I’ll leave you to it.” He did a small wave in Sherlock’s direction and stalked off. 

Right before he stepped out of view Sherlock went after him. John saw anger on his face. He tried to stop him from going after him but Sherlock pushed him away. 

John was standing alone on the dance floor. He looked around for a few seconds but didn’t see any familiar faces. He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed them over his face then he slipped back between the people and reunited with Greg and Molly. 

He could see by their faces that they had witnessed it all. “I totally cocked that up, didn’t I?”

Molly and Greg looked at each other and then Greg said, “let’s just get out of here.”

John nodded and followed them outside. 

***

When they stepped out of the club the cold hit John in the face. It wasn’t that cold outside, being early October but apparently he got used to the heat of the dancing bodies in the club. They were standing outside, waiting for a cab when John felt a hand on his shoulder and was violently being turned around. 

“What the hell was that?”

Sherlock was panting; he had obviously been looking for them all around the club. John didn’t really know what had happened back there, well, he did know what happened, he just really didn’t know what had come over him, why exactly he had reacted in that way. 

“Who the hell do you think you are, deciding whom I should or should not dance with?”

“You weren’t just dancing with him, though, were you? Jesus Sherlock, you should’ve seen the two of you at it. It’s like you were glued to each other’s face, or something.”

“That was rather the point.”

“Are you kidding? That guy looked like he was older than your brother. Sherlock, seriously, he was taking advantage of you.”

“He wasn’t, he was part of MY plan. So in fact, _I_ was taking advantage of _him_!” Sherlock was almost screaming now. He threw his hands up in the air, grunted and then sighed deeply as if to calm himself. The words that came out then seemed like he had thought them through carefully. “I am seventeen years old, John. And may I remind you: you’re not my babysitter anymore.”

“I know that, I just said that to scare him off. But, Sherlock, if you don’t want to take my advice, as your former babysitter, then just listen to me as your friend. Don’t…” He was unable to finish that sentence because Sherlock cut him off.

“Oh please, let me stop you there. You haven’t been my friend for over three years now, you’ve made that very clear when you stopped talking to me.” And with that he turned around and went back inside the club. 

John was nailed to the ground. He wanted to run after Sherlock, but he just couldn’t. That comment hit him right in the gut. Sherlock was obviously still angry with him for leaving. But was he actually angry because John had left for Uni or was he angry because they had lost contact? 

He wasn’t solely to blame for this, was he? There are always two people in a relationship, whatever the nature of that relationship might be. He had told Sherlock to come visit him whenever he was in London. But he hadn’t. He had tried to contact him whenever John visited home. But for some reason it just never worked out. After a while he just gave up. It had seemed to him that Sherlock didn’t want to see him or hear from him anymore. So he did what he thought Sherlock wanted, he left him alone. He just realised now that maybe that totally was not what Sherlock had wanted. He was confused, thinking everything through, he just stood there for a minute, trying to figure it out but soon he was shaken out of his trance. 

“John?” It was Molly. “John, are you okay? Do you want to go get something to drink or something?” He had forgotten Molly and Greg were standing right next to them, they had been witnessing every shot that was fired between Sherlock and him. Maybe he should ask for their thoughts on the matter. 

“I, er, I think I’m just gonna walk home.” He nodded once, as if to reassure himself that that was the right decision. “Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll be in touch, okay?” He started turning toward the right end of the street. “See ya.”

***

“Sherlock, are you angry with him because of last night, or because of three years ago?” It was the next morning, well, almost noon, and Sherlock and Molly where having coffee on their sofa. After the little fight that night between John and Sherlock, Molly and Greg left the club as well and had gone back to the flat where Greg had slept over. They had heard Sherlock come three hours later, at 2 a.m., by himself, which had relieved Molly, a bit. After sending Greg home half an hour ago she had started asking Sherlock some questions about his plan, which had been going quite well, according to him. Molly wasn’t really that interested in the plan, however. She was more interested in talking about John. 

Sherlock chose not to answer that question right now. His heated feelings from last night had simmered down a bit but whenever the subject of ‘John’ came up he could feel them coming back to the surface. 

“Sherlock, you need to figure this out. He really wants to be your friend again. You should’ve seen him last night when you left him outside. He looked devastated. He probably was, too.”

“It really isn’t your business, Molly. In fact I’m quite angry with you for inviting him without even consulting me about it.” 

“Sherlock, I know what you’re doing, don’t change the subject. I see why you’re angry but I’m not sorry. We had to surprise you, otherwise you would just shut down our proposal that you two should reunite.” 

“Quite right.” 

“The thing is, Sherlock, John really wants to be your friend again. I think he really missed you throughout these past few years. He hasn’t got a glue what happened that you to got so estranged from each other.”

“Are you trying to set us up? Ugh, Molly, you’ve tried to set me up a gazillion times, how often do I have to tell you, I’m not interested in relationships.” 

“That was the plan, originally, but John isn’t gay.”

“He isn’t?”

“That’s what he keeps telling people.” 

“Mhm.”

“What?”

“Well, he might not be gay, but he isn’t entirely straight either. ”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Well then, if you’re so sure, why don’t you go for it? Come on, Sherlock. I know you don’t want relationships because you think most people are idiots but John is not an idiot. You like him!

“I did, yes, a long time ago.”

“I’m sure he hasn’t changed, except for the fact that he became even fitter. I mean, have you seen his arms yesterday. Even that guy you were kissing was impressed by him.” There was a mischievous glint in Molly’s eyes. Sherlock knew she was playing him because he _had_ in fact noticed that. Whoever in that entire club hadn’t noticed John’s biceps had to have been blind. He had just chosen not to make a big deal out of it as Molly was doing right now. 

Molly’s tactic was working. Thinking back to yesterday, seeing john in his tight shirt reminded him of the time he had seen him so sweaty when was moving those boxes for his parents, and that reminded him of them together, while John was babysitting him, catching up on the Harry Potter movies or them just falling asleep together on the couch. They had been so good together. They just worked, the two of them. Sherlock had really missed that. And now, because Molly had reminded him, he wanted it all back. And more. He realised now, he actually wanted a lot more, too. 

“Okay, fine, you won! I’ll talk to him.”

“Actually, there’s a rugby match coming up soon. You should be the one surprising him.”

“Excellent plan, Molly.”

Molly clapped her hands, she was so excited she almost screamed: “I know, I’m brilliant!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!
> 
> Come visit me on [ tumblr ](http://allthingsjohnlock.tumblr.com/) for more Johnlock!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to the John's game. And Sherlock invites somebody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to upload this. On the bright side I did make the chapter longer, just to accomodate ;)
> 
> Ok, enjoy!

A week later Sherlock and Molly were getting ready to go to the game. 

“Sherlock, what is the weather going to be like later?” Molly could always count on Sherlock as her own personal weather boy.

“The weather report says that it will be dry throughout the evening, but I’m quite certain it will rain around 8.30 pm. Fools.” 

“Thanks, babe, if being a consulting detective doesn’t work out you could be the next weather man.”

Sherlock scoffed. “No, thanks, that job is for idiots.” 

“You’d be the first weather person to get the forecasts right, though. You’ll be famous all over the UK and probably the world!”

“No thanks, fame is not what I’m after.”

“I bet you’d get a lot of attention from all the boys, and girls too, probably.”

“Ugh, Molly, you know I’m not interested in _that_.”

“Oh, no, I know, you’re only interested in John Watson.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Right. You ready?” 

“Yes!” She took her umbrella off the hook by the door and opened the door. 

“No need for that, Molly, there’s too much wind. You’ll look silly trying to hold that straight up. Better wear a good rain coat with a hood.”

“Right, okay.” 

She hung the umbrella back up and hastened to her room and came back a minute later with a warmer coat. 

“Better?”

“That’ll do.” 

“And you’re wearing that?” She nodded towards Sherlock. He was wearing his signature long coat. 

“Yes, why? Is it not to your satisfaction?”

“Of course it is. You know I love that coat. But it doesn’t have a hood, does it?” 

“Why would I need a hood?” 

“Sherlock, you just told me to get a coat with a hood.”

“Yes, well, a hood would work better for you than for me. It would throw off my whole outfit, wouldn’t it? And furthermore, it would mess up my hair.”

“What, and the rain wouldn’t?”

Sherlock chose not to react to that and stepped out of the flat, leaving Molly behind. 

***

They arrived a bit earlier than expected and decided to first get something to eat and drink and then find Greg. He knew more about rugby than either Sherlock or Molly so he would know where the best seats were. In the end, though, Greg decided on a few empty seats right in the middle of the bleachers. Sherlock figured Greg hadn’t really thought things through like he would have done, but wasn’t in the mood to pick an argument with him. There were more important matters at hand today and Sherlock needed to concentrate so he could step up his game plan. 

Molly sat in the middle with Greg and Sherlock at either side. There were a few empty seats around them. They would certainly come in handy if Sherlock’s plan would work out as he had planned. 

All of a sudden there was a lot of noise around him, so much even that he couldn’t hear himself think. He looked around and realised on of the teams had just entered the field. Everyone around them was shouting horrible things at them. Sherlock rolled his eyes, assuming that was the opposite team. As if that was going to scare the other team off. It was all just so pedestrian. Much to do about nothing, he thought. That was until John Watson entered the field. His team had just run on the field, all in a neat row and Sherlock had spotted John the second he appeared. He was the fifth player to step food on the field. 

“There’s John!” Molly had jumped up and pointed at the man in the chequered uniform as if Sherlock hadn’t noticed him yet.

“Damn! He looks good!” She crooned. Sherlock heard a small protest from Greg which made him smile a little bit.

The truth is, John just stood out. He looked so natural on the field, on the grass, between his teammates, in that black and white chequered uniform. It seemed that that was the one place John should always be. Sherlock followed his every step from the moment John started moving around. Each team was huddled together; Sherlock assumed they were activating their team spirit, or something like that. Then they stood up, some players went to sit on the benches, others stepped on the field properly and then the game began. 

Once every few minutes Sherlock could hear Greg explain some game rules to Molly, he tried to listen in but after a while he just couldn’t concentrate anymore. He was just watching John and although Sherlock didn’t really understand what was going on, he just knew John was good. He didn’t doubt that almost every set of eyes in the public was fixed on John. He was that good. After fifteen minutes he couldn’t hide his adoration any longer. 

“Has he always been this good?” He shouted towards Greg. 

“You betcha, best one on our school team and looks like he’s the best one at Bart’s too.”

He watched another few minutes of the game and then decided he had been pathetic enough for one day. He took his phone out of his pocket and started texting. 

When it was halftime and the players all went to get a bit of rest, get their injuries checked out and get something to drink Sherlock couldn’t help noticing that suddenly there were a lot of girls on the field. Even more disturbingly, however, was the fact that they all seemed to hang around John. If they weren’t talking directly to him, they seemed to be standing in his field of vision and there was a lot of hair flipping going on.

Molly had noticed too and looked over at Sherlock. She saw him frowning and felt like she should say something about it. 

“Don’t worry about those girls, Sherlock. They’re probably just cheerleaders, I didn’t even know that was a thing now. It looks really American.”

“I didn’t know either. If I’d known I might have joined our Uni’s team.” He was staring his eyes out. 

“Greg!” Molly hit him on his arm. “You have a girlfriend and she’s standing right here!” 

Before Gregory could right himself however Sherlock started talking again.

“Molly, you know you’re way more beautiful than those girls, Greg is just being an idiot who can’t see beyond bare skin, big boobs and make-up right now. And, please, don’t concern yourself in my place. I really don’t mind the girls, it looks like John isn’t paying much attention to them anyway.” 

Molly bent over to Sherlock and kissed him on the top of his head. “Thanks, babe.”

“You’re welcome.” He picked up his phone again and carried on texting. 

Molly was surprised by his seemingly unaffected attitude. She would think he’d be pretty devastated, like that one time they had seen John flirt with Mary at the bakery, so many years ago. She looked him over and noticed he was smiling at a text message he’d just received.

“Okay, who’s that?”

“Who?” Sherlock look up from his texting like he was the most innocent person alive. 

“That person you keep texting. I’d assume it’s John, because that,” she waved towards his face, “is what you used to look like when you received a text from him. Only it isn’t John, because John is right over there, talking to a girl with hair the size of Russia.”

Sherlock looked over at this girl, very quickly, and then sniggered because Molly had been right; there was way too much hairspray in that girl’s hairdo. However he decided not to answer her completely because it would become obvious soon enough. 

Sherlock responded one last time and then stood up from his seat and waved. Molly followed his gaze and saw a man, at the bottom right of the bleachers who was looking around through the crowd, trying to find someone. And then Molly realised it was the guy from the club. Victor, was it? He noticed them and waved back quickly before he started zigzagging his way through the people. Molly figured she had a bit of time before he reached them to address Sherlock about this new development.

“What in the world are you doing? Did you just invite him over? I thought you were going for John? Are you still doing your sex experiment?” 

“Molly, relax. I am still planning on getting John, yes, and Victor is part of that plan. You know, get John jealous and all that. There are like a gazillion movies about this.” 

“Yes, and it never works out.” Molly was pretty shocked at Sherlock’s change of plan. She wanted to tell him to be careful about this but before she could Victor had reached them. 

“Hey Sherl. How’re you?” He moved closer to Sherlock and gave him a loud, obscenely loud smacking kiss on his cheek. 

“Very well and you?” Sherlock replied while Victor went to stand next to Sherlock, in front of the still empty seat.

“Good, yeah, thanks for inviting me. I was kind of having a boring night.” 

“You’re very welcome.” He replied and treated him to one of his signatory winks.

“So, what’s happening?” Victor asked while nodding at the field. “Who’s winning?”

“Er, I honestly can’t tell you. I wasn’t really paying attention. Molly?” He turned towards Molly. “Do you know who’s winning?”

“Yes, Sherlock, _John_ is winning.” She emphasised the ‘John’ and Sherlock could tell she wasn’t really impressed with Sherlock’s new plan. It looked as if she was trying to sabotage the whole plan by making Victor know he was only a pawn in the game Sherlock was playing. And victor seemed to catch on.

“John? Who’s that then?”

“Oh, just a friend.” Sherlock looked over to Molly, really quickly, giving her an angry look and then turned his gaze towards the field trying to find John. “He’s right there,” he pointed his finger, ”surrounded by those girls.”

“Oh, okay.” At first Victor didn’t seem to recognize him, it was a pretty long way to the field but then it dawned on him. “Wait, isn’t that the guy from the club, the one who almost tried to fight me?”

“Yeah, he’s friends with Greg.” Sherlock pointed over at Greg who did a quick wave at Victor as if Sherlock was introducing them. “Greg is Molly’s boyfriend and Molly is my flatmate. They invited me to come along. And so I invited you and that is the reason we are all here. Nothing more, nothing less.”

As soon as he’d finished rambling he knew what he had said sounded unnatural, like he was keeping something from Victor, which of course, he was. He decided to quickly change the subject before Victor could start thinking about the weird explanation.

“So, do you know anything about rugby?”

“Actually, I watch rugby a lot. To be fair, though, it’s not because I like the sport. It’s more because of men in shorts getting pretty handsy with each other. That’s exactly my kind of thing.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but laugh at that. He couldn’t deny that was a nice plus to the whole event. 

“That’s what I was thinking. I just hope those boys won’t distract you too much.”

“Distract me? From what?” Victor looked confused.

“Me, of course.” Said sassy Sherlock.

“Oh, Sherl, you’re the reason I came, so you’re my priority. And besides, who could keep their eyes off of that face.” He touched his pointer finger against Sherlock’s nose. “It’s the most gorgeous face I’ve ever seen.” He smiled. “I’m glad you came after me, that night, in the club. I regretted walking away the second I did. I just didn’t want to get into trouble there; it’s my favourite club.”

Sherlock was blushing after all those compliments. He was still not used to people calling him pretty or beautiful, or anything nice, really. 

“And I’m glad you’re so tall, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to find you again.”

He moved his hand towards Victor’s hair and curled his fingers through it playfully. They were standing pretty close to each other now and Sherlock knew Victor was going to kiss him. They were staring into each other eyes for a few seconds and then Victor was moving forward. Right before their lips touched Victor stopped moving. Was he hesitating? 

“Is anyone going to kill me if I kiss you right now?” Victor whispered so only Sherlock could hear.

“No, do it.” Sherlock whispered back. 

They locked lips. Victor tasted differently than the last time they kissed. There was absolutely no hint of alcohol on his breath, which gave Sherlock the chance to try and deduce other things about Victor. There was the minty taste again, which suggested hygiene but this time Sherlock also noticed some hint of cigarettes. Was Victor a smoker? Sherlock didn’t actually smoke, he’d tried it a couple of times but it never really stuck. He’d liked the feeling it gave him and he looked good doing it but he knew it’s bad for you. Furthermore, Molly would hate it and so would John.

John. 

Sherlock came slamming back to earth and realised he hadn’t breathed in a while and removed his lips from Victor. They were still close though and Sherlock took a deep breath through his nose. The only thing he could smell was Victor and it smelled good. 

“Mhm, you smell good.”

“You said that the last time.”

“Well, then it must be true.”

Sherlock smiled. The game had already started again, without the two of them noticing so Sherlock gave Victor a quick peck on his mouth and said: “Let’s watch the game for a bit, yeah?”

“Sure.”

They turned towards the field and Sherlock looked over quickly at Molly and Greg. Greg was watching the game, of course, but Molly was watching, no, more like staring at Sherlock. She raised her eyebrows as if she was challenging Sherlock to explain himself but there were also signs of concern and worry. Sherlock gave her a shrug and returned his gaze to the field. 

***

Bart’s won. Of course they did, they had John Watson on their team. Although John was a delight to look at, Sherlock had to admit he hadn’t watched much of the game after halftime. He had been a bit preoccupied with that gorgeous man who seemed to be stuck to his face. Victor was easy to talk to and Sherlock found it really easy to flirt with him, kiss him and touch him. 

“Hey, Sherlock.” He felt someone tapping his shoulder. Molly. 

“Yes, Molly.” 

“Do you want to come say hi to John with us? We told him we’d wait for him on the parking lot.“

“Yeah, sure.” He grabbed Victor’s hand and followed Greg and Molly off the bleachers all the way to Greg’s car. It had started to rain then and there were strong, cold winds coming from the North, just as Sherlock had predicted. Instead of standing next to the car they decided to get inside. Greg and Molly were sitting in the front and Victor and Sherlock sat at the back. There wasn’t a lot of room there, definitely not for two tall boys/men with legs going on for miles but they managed to get comfortable sitting very close to each other, legs touching from hip to ankle. 

Sherlock could hear Molly and Greg talking to each other. Planning the rest of their evening together but Sherlock wasn’t listening. Victor was suckling love bites on his neck and whispering dirty things in his ear. Sherlock had to admit he loved it. They weren’t making a lot of noise, which had the result that Greg and Molly didn’t really know what was happening on the back seat but after a while Victor’s hands started wandering on Sherlock’s legs, always creeping higher and higher. When one of his hands neared Sherlock’s crotch while Victor was suckling on his earlobe Sherlock let out a soft moan. He shouldn’t have done that because Molly and Greg both turned around the second they heard it and then Molly let out a loud gasp.

“Sherlock! Damn it.” She yelled after averting her eyes as quickly as possible. Greg finished what Molly was trying to say. “Guys, could you please not do that in my car? Or you know, in front of us? It’s weird.” 

Molly continued. ”I think we should extend rule nr. 8 towards your car, Greg.”

This had Sherlock laughing. He laughed so hard he bent all the way forward and Victor was forced to stop his ministrations on Sherlock’s earlobe. 

Molly and Greg joined in and that was settled then. No more shenanigans in Greg’s car. They talked about the game for a bit and about ten minutes later they could see John coming towards the car. It was still raining a bit but they decided to get out of the car anyway. 

From a distance Sherlock could tell John’s hair was still a bit wet from his shower and his cheeks were adorably red. Before he’d reached them Greg shouted out to him. 

“Johnnyboy! Great game, mate. You sure kicked some ass today!”

John laughed. “Thanks Greg, and thanks for coming! Any support is welcome.” John replied.

This made Sherlock chuckle. “It didn’t really look like you needed support, John.” 

“Hey, Sherlock.” Did he just become more red or was that just Sherlock’s imagination? “Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it. I’m really sorry about the other night. That was rude.” He looked from Sherlock to Victor with an apologetic look on his face. Sherlock looked over towards Victor, the movement baring chunks of his neck. 

“What is that?” John pointed towards Sherlock’s love bite.

“A hickey.”

“And who gave you that?” John looked pissed and he wanted to keep John guessing (although it wasn’t that difficult of a guess.) So he tried to brush it off. 

“That’s none of your business.” But at the same time he could hear Victor say in the most sassy of ways: “I did!” He even pointed at himself as if it wasn’t clear enough already.

“Did you, now? How old are you exactly?”

“26, why?”

“No reason, I was just curious.” He stepped closer to Sherlock, took his elbow by force and steered him a few meters away from the rest of the group. Sherlock pulled his arm out of John’s grasp and hissed: “What do you think you’re doing?”

“No, Sherlock, what do _you_ think you’re doing. Seriously, I don’t trust this guy at all.” 

“Why not? You were just apologising to us.” 

“Well, that was before he acted like a smug asshole. He has a weird way of looking at you. Like you’re a piece of meat and he wants to devour you or something.” 

“Does he? Well, at least someone wants to then.” He looks deep into John’s eyes, trying to make him see what he means by that. Trying to make him see that he wants John to look at him that way, that he wants John to devour him. 

“What?” John looked confused. Had he understood what Sherlock wanted from him? Maybe he had received the message correctly? But then he continued talking. “Sherlock, just be careful, okay, do you have my new number?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Okay, then call me if anything happens. When you need to get out of somewhere, when you don’t feel safe, when you need something. Call me, okay? Promise me you’ll call.”

Sherlock nodded again, not knowing what to say really. He was speechless. It was exactly like four years ago, when John had found out Sherlock was being bullied in school. 

“Sherlock,” He could feel John putting both his hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “I need you to say it out loud.” 

He scraped his throat before speaking. “I promise.” It came out more as a whisper but John was satisfied anyway. They turned around and headed back towards the rest of the group. 

“So should we grab something to eat? I’m starving.” John asked when they were back within hearing distance.

“I could eat something.” Greg answered. Molly stomped him in the gut. “Are you kidding, you just had like three hot dogs, how can you still be hungry?”

Greg shrugged. “Sorry, I just am.” Molly rolled her eyes. 

John laughed. “How about pizza?”

Everyone agreed and half an hour later they were all sitting down at a nice little Italian place near Molly and Sherlock’s flat. The conversation was light and it seemed that everyone had warmed to Victor’s company. He really wasn’t a bad guy. Even John had to admit that. Sherlock was sat next to Victor; Molly was sitting in front of him with Greg by her side, and John was sitting at the head of the table, next to Sherlock and Molly. 

During dinner Victor really couldn’t get his hands off of Sherlock. He constantly felt his hands on his legs, his arms or on his back. It wasn’t annoying exactly but Sherlock still didn’t like it as much. It was like Victor wanted to show everyone Sherlock was his boyfriend, or something. Maybe it was because Sherlock wasn’t giving him much attention. He was mostly talking to John and Molly, raking up old memories. And it wasn’t as if he was ignoring Victor all together. He had squeezed Victor’s leg or hand once in a while and he’d listened in on Victor’s conversation with Greg on more than one occasion and they seemed to have a nice chat, so Sherlock didn’t really want to interrupt. 

When he noticed the topic of their conversation after they had ordered their desserts Sherlock was intrigued by it and needed to get more information. He turned a bit more towards Victor and Greg and squeezed Victor’s leg to get his attention. 

“What’s this about a dress up party?”

“Oh, there’s a costume party for Halloween next week at the club.” Greg answered.

“There is? How come I didn’t know about this? Greg, come on, you know how much I love to dress up!” 

“You do?” Greg looked bewildered.

“He does.” Molly pitched in. 

Victor turned towards Sherlock. “So I assume you’ll want to go?” Sherlock nodded vigorously. 

“As my date?” Victor proposed. Sherlock pondered for a second and then answered: “Sure, but we’re not coordinating costumes. That’s dumb, unless you can come up with a really good idea. But I doubt it.” He clapped his hands together. “How exciting! I already know what I’m going to wear!”

Sherlock was so excited he could barely contain himself. This was going to be the perfect opportunity to seduce John. 

At the end of dinner, when the bill came, Victor offered to pay for everyone. After a bit of resistance from John, “we can pay for ourselves” and some counter arguments from Victor, “well, you’re all students without decent income, I have an actual job, it will be my pleasure” the issue was settled and Victor paid. 

They were standing outside the restaurant, finishing up their conversations when Molly suggested everyone came around their apartment for a nightcap. 

“Sounds good, Molls.” Greg put his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder and pulled her to him to give her quick kiss on the mouth. 

John turned towards them. “Yeah, I’m in.” 

Victor, who had his arm around Sherlock’s middle whispered in his ear. “Actually, Sherlock, do you want to come back to mine?”

He thought about it for a second. Looking from Victor to Greg to Molly and finally to John. Again, there was concern written all over John’s face but Sherlock could also detect a hint of anger and jealousy, maybe? That’s what Sherlock wanted. Good. 

“I’d be happy to.” He smiled at Victor who smiled back. 

“Okay, let’s go then.” He grabbed his hand and pulled Sherlock with him. 

“Sherlock?” They heard John say. 

Sherlock turned around letting go of Victor’s hand. 

“Remember what we talked about?” He waited for a response from Sherlock, who nodded quickly. “Anytime, okay?” Sherlock nodded once more and followed Victor toward the nearest tube station.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock goes home with Victor and then he messes up his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is kind of soon after the previous chapter, but I just couldn't hold it to myself any longer.  
> Sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> This will be Victor/Sherlock sexy times so, thread carefully if you're not really into that.
> 
> Please enjoy.

They left the tube at the Camden Town station and walked away from the touristy roads, right into some nice residential area with big town houses. 

“I did not know there were such nice houses here.”

“Yeah, hidden treasures.” Victor looked over to Sherlock, who was indeed pleasantly surprised. “Come on, it’s this way, just a few more minutes.” It was still raining out and the wind was quite strong. Sherlock kept petting his hair, hoping the weather wasn’t ruining his look. He did pop his collar up against the gusts of wind, keeping his neck warm. They kept walking in silence for a couple of minutes and then Victor grabbed Sherlock’s hand and led him through a little black iron gate. He looked up towards the house, again pleasantly surprised. It was a beautiful old, Victorian-style terraced house. 

“You live here?” Sherlock was gobsmacked. The house was gorgeous. 

“Yes, but before you get all excited, it’s all apartments, I live on the top floor.” He pointed towards the roof of the house. “You see those two small windows? Those are my windows. Okay, come on, let’s get inside, it’s getting cold out here.”

He tugged Sherlock along and up the few steps to the front door, let go of his hand to look for his keys in his pocket, found them and then fumbled a bit before he could open the door. They climbed the stairs to the top floor while Sherlock deduced Victor’s neighbours. The landlady, who lived on the ground floor, was old, very old. The young couple on the first floor helped her with her the groceries and cleaning and therefor have a reduction in rent. Sherlock guessed it was 5-10 % of the total. An art student with wealthy decent lived on the second floor and then Victor lived on the top floor. 

The flat was clean, still big and although the windows had looked smallish from the outside, they actually seemed a decent size from the inside. Sherlock imagined they would let through a lot of light during the day, probably also due to the fact that it was a top floor and there was no obstruction from the trees outside or other neighbouring buildings. 

“Were you expecting company or is it always this clean in here?”

“Oh, yeah, no, I’m a very tidy guy.”

“Okay, then you should never visit my place.”

“Are you messy?” Victor waved towards the couch, indicating that Sherlock should sit down. 

“It’s not like there are cockroaches and rats living amongst my possessions but I tend to think better when there’s just a bit of clutter around.”

“I see.” He let the subject drop. “What do you want to drink? I’ve got coffee, teas, juices, wine or soft drinks. If you want a beer I could go down and get you some. My downstairs neighbour probably has some and he owes me.” Sherlock raised his eyebrows in question. 

“Funny story actually, he came knocking at 3 a.m. a few weeks ago because he needed some condoms. I wasn’t actually at home, so he let himself in and rummaged through my bathroom. He then took a whole pack and then wrote a note telling me he did so. When I asked him later why he didn’t just go to the store real quick he said they were already quite far along, he was butt-naked and sporting a stiffy. Said he was barely able to walk up the stairs.” He stopped for a second and then carried on. “Great guy, actually, and very handsome as a matter of fact. It would’ve been really awkward if I was actually at home, but still, I would’ve enjoyed the show.”

He winked at Sherlock. “So, what’s it to be then?”

“Sorry?” Sherlock was a bit distracted by the story and couldn’t remember the actual question.

“To drink?”

“Oh, tea, black if possible.”

“Comin’ right up. Please, get comfy. You can turn on the telly if you like.” He pointed towards the remote on the coffee table in front of the couch and then started rummaging in the kitchen. Sherlock, not really being a fan of television, opted for the act of looking around the flat after taking of his coat. The flat was very open plan. The kitchen, hallway and living area were all part of the same room. The kitchen was big, very clean, modern and the style of it really moved on into the living area. The couch was big, bulky and dark, like the rest of the furniture so they all stood out to the light wooden floor and white walls. The whole room was so black and white that Sherlock started looking for some colours. There was one plant in between the windows and a few magazines in the corner of the coffee table, which were the only clear colours to break the black and white pattern. 

“You like black and white?” Victor was still busy in the kitchen. It took a while before Sherlock received a response. 

“Yes, I do. It’s, er, for lack of better wording, very clean.”

“I guess it is.”

“So, you work in a law firm? I would assume you’re an intern because of your age, but then, how can you afford this place?”

“Ah, yes, well, I work for my father. So, there are perks to being the boss’s son.”

“Oh, I see, well, it certainly is a nice place.”

“Thanks.” The rummaging in the kitchen had stopped and Victor appeared from behind the counter with a cup of tea and a glass of red wine, presumably for himself. 

He gave the teacup to Sherlock and before he sat down he pulled some coasters from underneath the coffee table and put them on top of it, one in front of Sherlock and the other in front of himself.

“So tell me, what was the real reason you invited me to the game?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I appreciate you thinking of me but I’m just really curious as to why exactly you wanted me to be there. I texted you several times this week, after you gave me your number at the club, you never once answered but then all of a sudden you invite me to a game of your old babysitter who almost punched me in the face? I want to believe you invited me because you liked me but I can’t help thinking there’s a hidden agenda here, Sherlock. Just explain, please?”

Sherlock was caught. Victor was a smart person, he had just proved that, but everything was going according to plan and Sherlock couldn’t back down now. Victor still had to go to the dress up party as his date, so what are a few more lies? Okay, here it goes. 

“Okay, John is an old friend of mine, we hadn’t seen each other in years and we totally got off on the wrong foot in the club. There was a whole misunderstanding where we both thought the other was mad at us. I really don’t know what happened but Molly and Greg begged me to set it straight, you know, fix things. So that’s why I went to the game, to show John I’m not actually angry with him. I didn’t realise, however, how boring rugby is. Seriously, why does it have to take that long? I got bored so I started texting you.” 

He had looked into Victor’s eyes pleadingly during his entire justification. 

“So you just texted me because you were bored, not because you wanted to?” 

“No, of course I wanted to, I was just scared to before, I guess. Because you were a bit intoxicated when we first met and I was afraid you were going to change your mind once you saw me without having had a few drinks.” Sherlock paused for dramatic effect and looked down at his hands. “I might look confident but I’m really not, it’s all just a façade.”

Sherlock stopped talking and Victor just looked at him for a minute. Not talking, just pondering over everything Sherlock had just said. Sherlock took a few sips of his tea and pulled a face; there was no sugar in it. Then he remembered; he’d been so distracted by the way Victor’s apartment looked that he forgot to ask to add some sugar. Victor was still watching him, but a smile had crept on his face.

“Want some sugar?” He asked. Sherlock nodded. 

“I’ll go get some.” He got up from the couch and before he went over to the kitchen he bent over Sherlock, kissed the tip of his nose and said: “thanks for being honest.”

Sherlock didn’t dare look in his eyes then, so he just kept his eyes downcast. Victor didn’t notice and went to get the sugar. After he sat down again they changed the subject slightly towards Sherlock’s friends. 

“I like Greg, he’s cool. I thought I recognized him from the club but I wasn’t certain until he mentioned it. He’s Molly’s boyfriend, yeah? How long have they been together?” 

“Oh, over four years, now. They actually met at John’s goodbye party, when he left for college. He was John’s friend and Molly was my friend and I deduced they would be perfect for each other and I guess I was right, as usual.”

“Cocky bastard.” He chuckled and sat a bit closer to Sherlock, putting his arm around Sherlock’s shoulder and working his fingers through his dark curls. 

“Well, I was! I can’t help it, I’m smart.”

“Mhm, and what’s this smart boy reading at University, then?” 

“Chemistry.”

“What kind of chemistry?” Victor was nuzzling his neck again. Leaving a trace of small kisses and licks from the base of his neck towards his ear. It was quite distracting.

“Er, the normal kind of chemistry.” 

“Not like the chemistry in a relationship?” 

Sherlock huffed. “There is no such thing.”

“Really, what’s this thing that we have then?” Sherlock had now just realised they had been flirting again or more that Victor was trying to seduce him. He couldn’t deny it wasn’t working. He swallowed before giving an answer.

“Attraction.” 

“What kind of attraction? Are we talking interpersonal, physical or sexual attraction?”

Sherlock smiled, he knew where this was going.

“Whichever one you like it to be,” he whispered.

“Fuck, Sherl.” And then he kissed him full on the mouth, closed lips against closed lips and Sherlock began to really warm to the sensation of another person’s lips on his. It just wasn’t leaving him unaffected anymore. He could feel himself getting hard, his trousers getting tighter around his crotch area and he had an unexplainable urge to touch Victor all over. Was it the fact that he was actually warming to Victor, that he was actually starting to like him that had him in such a wanton state or was it more the fact that his body, the one of a seventeen year old hormonal boy was finally acting up, wanting some satisfaction after years of being ignored. 

The slide of lips was made slippery when Victor decided he should get his tongue involved in their little game of dominance. He licked Sherlock’s bottom lip first, then his upper lip and then he started prodding to actually get inside his mouth. Sherlock granted him access by just opening his mouth a teeny tiny bit, curious about what Victor was about to do when he felt Victor’s tongue tracing the ridge of his teeth. Sherlock knew what he was looking for inside his mouth so he helped him out a little bit and stuck out his tongue, just past the ridge of his teeth. The moment their tongues touched someone led out a desperate moan. Sherlock couldn’t really tell if it had been Victor or him. It was probably Victor; he wouldn’t make such a needy sound himself, would he? 

It was now that Sherlock noticed a hand on his ass. Apparently they weren’t exactly sitting next to each other anymore, they had leaned so far towards each other that only Sherlock’s left side was touching the couch and he was facing Victor directly. Sherlock’s right arse cheek was free of range for Victor to grab and he hadn’t let that opportunity slide. Victor’s hands were quite big and they covered the entire surface of Sherlock’s right arse cheek. It felt great, like a free sensual massage. 

After battling tongues for a few minutes Sherlock was getting restless, he needed more so he lifted his right leg and swung it over Victor’s legs, straddling him. Victor grunted. Sherlock, thinking he might have done something wrong, pulled his lips away from Victor’s.

“Oh, sorry, is this not comfortable?” 

Victor laughed. “No, no, no, Sherlock, it, er, it’s really nice.” He gave him a chaste kiss on the mouth. “You feel so good.” He was nuzzling his neck now, licking, suckling and leaving more marks. He went over the mark he’d left earlier that evening and sucked on that a bit more, making it even darker. 

“Your neck is so perfect, it would look even better with some decorations.”

“Like jewellery?” Sherlock panted.

“No,” victor whispered in his ear.

Sherlock was keening now, taking small breaths, trying to keep his panting under control and his heart from beating out of his chest. 

“What did you have in mind, then?”

“Oh, anything in the shape of my mouth will look gorgeous.”

Victor’s hands were moving from Sherlock’s thighs to his hips over to the base of his spine, then to his well-rounded arse cheeks, and then all the way back. The sensation of it was mesmerising and together with the nuzzling on his neck Sherlock was growing more and more fidgety, he needed more. So when Victor’s hands were on his ass, squeezing the flesh once more, Sherlock scooted forward, effectively joining both men’s crotches. Sherlock had noticed the tenting of Victor’s trousers before but now he could feel it too. Marvellous. 

There was no other word for it. The sensation was simply marvellous. He needed to feel that again, so he rocked his hips, just a little bit. 

“Ugh, Sherl.” Victor wasn’t squeezing his cheeks anymore; he was using his hands to pull Sherlock more towards him. 

They were panting, loudly, one or both of them grunting occasionally or swearing in between thrusts. Sherlock was sure that if Victors handsome downstairs neighbour were home that he would now be able to witness their very vocal activities. He couldn’t care less.

All of the sudden Sherlock realised Victor was doing more that just saying a few incomprehensible words, he was trying to make a sentence. It was hard to concentrate with all that he was feeling right now, but he tried. 

“Sherlock, ugh, listen to me, … , mh, yeah, are you sure about this, because, mpff, we can stop.” What? They couldn’t stop now!

“Yeah, no, don’t stop, I need to.” For some reason this made Victor stop altogether. Sherlock was startled for a second, he tried thrusting a few more times but his partner wasn’t participating. Victor took Sherlock by the wrists, holding his hands between the two of them. 

“But is it also what you want, Sherlock?”

Sherlock had not seen this coming. Where did all this sentimentality come from all of a sudden? He was still hard, and he knew Victor was too, and Sherlock really did want this right now. He needed to get off, badly. So he pulled his wrists from Victor’s grab, cradled Victor’s head in his hands, kissing him on the mouth and said: “Yes, this is what I want.” He wasn’t really lying now, was he? He wanted _this_ , a.k.a. the sex, but he just wanted it with a different person. That, however, were just technicalities. 

He stared into Victor’s eyes, while slightly thrusting his hips again, until Victor was convinced Sherlock did indeed ‘want’ it. The thrusting became more demanding and in no time they were back where they had left off: the both of them panting, grunting, moaning, swearing and some sloppy kissing here and there. 

Sherlock was hot. He was wearing too many clothes. The moving and the act of being turned on were making him sweat like never before. He could feel droplets pooling at the base of his spine, making his dress shirt wet, and he could feel his hair starting to stick to his scalp and forehead, droplets shining from end of his curls. 

“Mm, hot,” was all Sherlock managed to say. 

Victor grunted as a vocal response and then moved his hands from kneading Sherlock’s buttocks to tugging at his vest. “Off.” 

Sherlock tried shrugging his vest off but it took a while before the both of them managed it. Before it was completely off Sherlock’s arms got stuck behind him, his wrists getting stuck in the arms of the vest. This gave Victor some free reign over Sherlock’s chest and so he started unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt. One button at a time, torturously slow. When most of the buttons were undone, and Sherlock had finally shrugged off the vest, Victor’s hands were caressing Sherlock’s chest as far as the fabric would allow him to go. He could reach both Sherlock’s nipples and took them between thumb and index finger, squeezing them lightly. Sherlock moaned, the skin on skin contact making him even hotter even though he was practically bare chested. He was nearing his climax, he could tell now, the feeling in his tummy and swollen cock almost unbearable, he new he was going to come soon. The sounds he was making were louder and the thrusting of his hips was becoming uncontrolled. 

He looked down at Victor who was staring right back at him with a devilish grin on his face. Sherlock tried to deduce the grin but was unable to because at that moment Victor dove forwards, pulling Sherlock’s chest towards him giving their crotches even more friction. Sherlock knew he was done for. This was it, he was going to come and then Victor did the most brilliant thing ever. He tugged Sherlock’s shirt to the side and bit his left nipple. 

“AAHH!” Sherlock saw stars. He saw the moon, the sun, he saw the entire galaxy. Then he saw a black hole and fell right into it, making him crash back down to earth. He didn’t really know if he’d been out a long time, but he could feel Victor panting underneath him so he assumed Victor had just come too, Sherlock wanted to be sure though. He slid back a little bit, giving them some extra space to slow their breathing.

“Did you come?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“No, I’m sticky.” Sherlock huffed.

“Gorgeous and sticky. Want to freshen up? Bathroom is over there.” He angled his head towards the back of the apartment. “The door is open, so you can’t miss it.”

Sherlock tried to get but needed some help before he was steady on his feet. Once he was in the bathroom he stood in front of the mirror and looked himself over. He stared for at least a couple of minute, his mind racing. What had just happened? This was not according to plan. The original plan maybe, but definitely not the new and improved seduce-John-plan. 

He splashed some water in his face and neck, tried to fix his hair a bit and then looked down at his trousers. His crotch was still wet and he used some water to get most of the come out but gave that up as a lost cause soon enough. Now it just looked like he peed _and ___came down pants.

_Victor had already changed into something more clean and comfortable, being able to just toss the dirtied clothes into the wash. He was waiting for Sherlock on the couch. Instead of joining him on the couch, Sherlock stood awkwardly by the door._

_“You could take a shower if you want to and I’ll give you something clean to wear.”_

_“Thanks but I think I’ll just go home.”_

_“You can sleep over if you want to, I’d rather you do actually. You won’t have to go out by yourself anymore.”_

_“Er, no, thanks, I really should get home.” Victor looked a bit disappointed._

_“Okay, if you’re sure. Hold on, I’ll put on my shoes and walk you to the station.”_

_He walked over to what Sherlock assumed was his bedroom, came back wearing socks and pulled on his shoes while Sherlock took his coat and threw it on, effectively covering his stained trousers._

_Sherlock was ready to head out but Victor stopped him, looking conflicted._

_“Sherlock, are you mad or disappointed or scared or something? I asked you to stay because I want you to, okay, not because I feel obliged or anything. I actually want you to stay the night.”_

_“I, er, I’m just overwhelmed, I think. I’d rather go home and process.”_

_“Okay, but you did enjoy yourself, yes?”_

_“Immensely so.” He looked Victor in the eyes and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently as if to reassure him._

_“Good.”_

_“Come on, let’s go, the last train is in exactly five minutes.”_

_He walked him all they way to the station and then waited until Sherlock was out of sight before heading back to his apartment. When he got out of the shower half an hour later he had received a text from Sherlock._

_**Safely back at home. Had a lovely evening. See you soon? –SH** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARGH, frick frack! I hope you kind of enjoyed it, I know it wasn't Johnlock but it'll come, soon, I swear, just bear with, little munchkins!
> 
> Also, please don't hate on Victor, I like him! 
> 
> BTW, I changed my tumblr blog because it was a secondary blog and I didn't like that because that meant I couldn't follow you guys back and also a bunch of other reasons, so I made a new blog, a primary one. So if you would like to follow me over  
> [here](http://www.allthingsjohnlockao3.tumblr.com/), that'd be awesome!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock deals with Victor and goes to a costume party for Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweeties, hello!
> 
> Next chapter. I'm hoping you guys are enjoying the ride so far. This chapter is pretty long, mostly because I wanted to end on a happy note ;)
> 
> Sorry for any spelling mistakes.. 
> 
> See you next time!

Sherlock was standing in front of his flat when he had sent the message. He remembered then that John might still be at their flat, having a drink with Greg and Molly, so instead of walking in he turned around and decided to go for a late night stroll to the nearest tree lined square. He sat down on a bench under a big tree, mostly sheltered from the rain. He was muttering to himself and probably looked like a proper lunatic, which he was, wasn’t he, a proper fucking idiot. He had messed up royally and he was not seeing an easy way out. His deceit was gnawing at him. He should never have gone to Victor’s place. He should never have gotten involved with him. It had been a big, big mistake and Sherlock knew he had to fix things. 

“Fuck,” he practically shouted out of the blue. 

After a couple of hours of pondering he’d made up his mind, it was not going to be easy and he was going to look like a right asshole, but it would be the to right thing to do. He was going to meet with Victor again, soon, and be honest, truly honest this time. He was going to call Victor the next day and explain. But first he had to talk to Molly; she had more knowledge about this kind of thing. 

Sherlock went home. When he arrived on his street he could see from afar that the flat was completely dark, the company was probably gone and hopefully Greg and Molly had gone to bed. He entered the flat, tried to keep quiet for Molly and Greg and went straight into his room.

***

The next day Sherlock needed to talk to Molly. Sherlock had stridden into the kitchen where she and Greg were having some eggs and toast. 

Molly was startled. “Sherlock! I didn’t know you were home?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be home?”

“We thought you’d stayed over at Victor’s. We were waiting for you to get back but when you didn’t show before midnight we just assumed you’d stayed over.”

“Oh no, I actually only stayed for a little while, I went for a walk though, had to think some things over.”

Sherlock sat down on the table and grabbed a toast from Greg’s plate. 

“Oi!” Sherlock didn’t pay him any attention. He focused on Molly instead.

“Molly? I think I messed up.”

“Is this about Victor?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“I lied and then I cheated and then I lied some more…” 

“Sherlock,” she reached over to cover his hand with hers, “what happened last night?”

“I lied to Victor and said I wasn’t in love with John and then we did something, er, sexual. And then he was being perfect and sweet and I basically ran away.”

“And you feel bad because…”

“I lied to him and I think he likes me more than I like him, though I do in fact like him, just not as much as I like John. And now I’ve made everything more complicated.”

Molly nodded her head slowly, trying to register everything, then she almost whispered, “did he take your virginity?” 

“Molly! That is not what this is about.” They were so involved in their conversation that they almost forgot Greg was still in the room. He made presence clear at this moment, though. He stood up quickly, his chair scraping over the floor. 

“I really don’t need to hear this. I’m out of here.” He headed for Molly’s room. 

Sherlock and Molly didn’t pay him any mind and Molly even rolled her eyes at the immaturity of her boyfriend. 

“I think my virginity is still in tact, there was not any immediate touching of intimate body parts and no penetrations whatsoever. So I think I can still play that card. But we did do something we shouldn’t have done, and that is entirely my fault.” 

“Okay, I see, have you thought about how you’ll fix it?” 

“Yes, actually, but I wanted to run it by you first.”

“Good thinking, so what’s your plan?”

“Well, I think I should call Victor a.s.a.p. and be honest with him, I assume he’ll want to brake things off then. What do you think?”

“You could do that, yes,” she pondered for a second and then added quickly, “and definitely tell him you’re a prick!”

“What, why would I do that?”

“Because you are, and because it’ll make him feel better.” 

“Fine.”

***

Sherlock picked up his phone and dialled Victor’s number. 

“Hello, Victor?”

_“Yes? Sherlock?”_

“Yes, obviously, er, how are you?”

_“Good, why are you calling?”_

“Victor, er, I had a lovely time last night but I feel like I have to tell you something.”

_“I think I know where this is going, but I’m actually at work, Sherlock. Could we do this tonight, in person?”_

“Okay.”

_“I’ll text you when and where we can meet.”_

“Okay.” 

Victor ended the call.

***

Sherlock had received Victor’s text a few hours later, informing him they were to meet at the centre of the inner circle of Regent’s park at 6.30pm. 

Sherlock was early, he blamed his nerves for that, and sat down on a bench. At first he was thinking everything through, making himself even more nervous than he already was, but then he decided to ease his mind and started watching the passers-by, deducing them one by one. They were just walking around, he was going to work, they were on a second, no wait, third date, she was going to meet her dealer and so on. 

Then he noticed someone sitting beside him. Victor. Before he was even able to say hi, Victor started talking.

“Is it him?”

“Who?” Sherlock was slightly startled. Sherlock turned to face Victor but he wasn’t returning his gaze, he was looking straight ahead. 

“John, is that why you wanted to meet me?” Still he didn’t turn towards Sherlock.

Sherlock dropped his gaze, favouring watching at his hands instead of watching Victor. “Yeah.” It was barely a whisper.

“How long have you been in love with him, then?”

“Ever since I was thirteen, I guess.”

“Well, I can’t compete with that.”

“I’m sorry, I…” Victor cut him off. 

“Sherlock, I get it, he’s your first love, and you’ll probably never get over him. ”

“Wait, no, let me finish, I’m sorry, I used you and that makes me an asshole.”

Victor sniggered. “You are, but you’re young and innocent and clueless and I was the one who should’ve known better.” He sighs deeply. “Listen, John seems like a great guy, he’s handsome and I know he’ll treat you well so I hope it will work out for the two of you.” Victor looks into Sherlock’s eyes, smiles slightly and they stay quiet for a few seconds then Victor puts his hand on Sherlock’s cheek and leans in to peck him on the other one. 

“If you ever need advice or you want to have a chat, don’t hesitate to call me, okay? I’ll see you later.” He dropped his hand to Sherlock shoulder, stood up, and squeezed his shoulder a last time before he turned and left towards the nearest exit of the park.

***

Sherlock was glad it had worked out in the end. Victor wasn’t necessarily angry with him, he seemed to understand the whole situation, which gave Sherlock some peace of mind, in the end. Now he could fully concentrate on his plan to make John his boyfriend. He had known from the second someone had mentioned ‘dress-up party at a gay club’ what his costume was going to be. It was going to be girly and sexy and something Sherlock was certain that John was going to love. 

He had asked Molly to go with him to the store to pick out the perfect outfit. They had to go to a lingerie store and when they were browsing all employees assumed the outfits they were deliberating over were in fact for Molly. But after Sherlock had told off some extremely unfriendly girl with high ideas on gender normalities and after finding Molly some nice panties, which Greg would enjoy, they had found the perfect getup for Sherlock’s costume. 

He was standing in front of the big mirror in his room now, checking his costume over. He was wearing a very basic black corset with ruffles along the upper and lower edges, a silk dark purple ribbon that hung at the smallest part of the waist and which was tied together in a pretty bow at the front. Underneath he wore some plain black silk nickers that were able to tuck in everything in a very discreet fashion. On his legs he was wearing plain dark stockings with a wide lace band near the top of his thighs. He turned 90 degrees and checked himself out from the side, noticing the seam on the back of the stockings, starting at the wide band and going all they way down into his shoes.

His heels were awesome, the same purple as his bow. They had been a bit of a gamble, he’d bought them online, unbeknownst if they were going to fit or if the colour would match. The colour had been spot on though, and the website Sherlock had bought them through was even able to send him a size 12. They weren’t really comfortable, but since when are heels ever comfortable? And he’d always be able to ignore the pain if it would turn out to be very painful. 

Turning this way and that way, checking is bum from behind, checking when he was bent over just a bit, seeing if it wasn’t too revealing, but in the end, everything seemed to stay in it’s right place and even when Sherlock would jump around a bit, or wiggle his bum, everything stayed exactly where it should be. Perfect. 

He stepped closer to the mirror so he could check his make-up. Eyes? Perfectly sexy. Lips? Very kissable. Hair? Nicely tousled. Neck? Could do with some more glitter. He stepped towards his desk and picked up the little jar full with the shiny, glittery make up, applying some more on his cheeks, down his neck and on his bared collarbones. He stepped a bit further from the mirror, letting the light in his room reflect off the glitter. 

***

Sherlock had been nervous, he knew he looked amazing, Molly had told him more than once and he had seen it himself in the mirror, but he was still mostly nervous about John’s reaction. Sherlock hoped John would consider it hot and sexy and not too slutty or trashy. But the second he saw John and John saw him, Sherlock knew John’s reaction was very, very positive indeed. 

Molly and Sherlock had shared a cab to the club where John and Greg would be waiting for them outside, only to realise Greg and John had already gone inside because it was getting too cold out. When Sherlock and Molly were standing in line to hang up their coats, Molly was texting Greg, asking him where they were. 

“There at one of the tables near the bar. Greg said they were standing next to a tall drag queen with a neon green wig. Apparently we can’t miss it, the wig, that is.” 

“Lovely.”

When it was their turn to hang up their coats and Sherlock shrugged his off some men whistled and some gasped. Sherlock didn’t pay them any mind but Molly looked around, seeing who had made those indecent sounds. 

She didn’t have to look very far though, the person behind them, a young man dressed up as wolverine said: 

“Damn, honey, you look good.”

Sherlock turned around, looked him in the eye and said: “Thanks.” Then he turned back to Molly and spoke, “come on Molly, let’s go.” 

They left the cloakroom and headed inside the actual club that was slightly decorated in the spirit of Halloween. There were pumpkins on the bar, tiny witches on broomsticks hanging from the ceiling and a couple of black-lit skeletons hanging on the walls. It was very obvious that the people inside the club actually loved Halloween; everyone was dressed up impeccably. Normally Sherlock would be bothered by the lack of effort people generally put into their costume but it seemed that today everyone had done their best. 

He started looking around for a green wig but was more than once distracted by some people’s costume. He saw a Cleopatra with the most beautiful make-up, realising he couldn’t have done it better himself, he saw a Malfoy and a Harry Potter who were making out and some sexy fire men with abs Sherlock could stare at for days on end. Then he noticed a bright green wig and pointed towards it so that Molly could also see. He eyed the scene around the wig and noticed someone waving. Greg, and next to him a gobsmacked John, his eyes wide open in surprise and his jaw almost touching the floor. 

Molly and Sherlock moved over to where John and Greg were standing around a high table, both of them clutching their drinks. Greg immediately handed one to Molly, one that was blood red. 

“Hey, Molls, I got you a Bloody Mary, they were half off and I know you like ‘em.” He kissed her quickly on the mouth. “You look cute.”

“Great, thanks!”

“Hi, er, Sherlock, you look amazing.” It was quite dark in the club but the light from the bar made Sherlock able to see that John was blushing. 

“Thank you.”

“I would’ve gotten you something to drink but I don’t really know what you like.” 

“It’s fine, I don’t really know what I like, either. What are you drinking?” He moved his hand over the table, wanting to grab John’s drink when John stopped him.

“You can’t drink that.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not old enough.”

“Oh, come on, just a sip.”

“No, they’ll throw us all out if they find out.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at John’s dramatic reasoning. 

“Please.”

“No, he’s quite right,” Greg chipped in, “they’re very strict about that stuff here.”

“Fine, then go get me a non-alcoholic drink.”

John nodded and headed towards the bar, giving Sherlock the opportunity to check out John’s outfit since he had been mostly hidden by the high table. John was dressed as a military man. He was wearing fatigues, black boots and one of those white sleeveless undershirts. When John reached the bar he leaned over it, trying to get the bartender’s attention and when he did that, his fatigues hugged his behind quite nicely. Sherlock couldn’t hide his smile. Yup, that was very nice, hopefully he could get his hands on those cheeks by the end of the night. 

John returned with a bright orange drink. Sherlock looked at it questionably. “It’s just non-alcoholic cocktail, apparently they’re not selling normal beverages tonight, just Halloween related stuff. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Thanks,” Sherlock said when John handed him his drink. He took a sip. It was not that bad, orange juice with grenadine and probably a few pounds of sugar. 

“Mhm, not bad.”

“Can I take a sip?”

“I don’t know,” Sherlock teased, “there’s a lot of sugar in this. You probably shouldn’t, John, I can see you’re not as fit as you used to be.” Ha, take that! Payback for not letting him taste John’s drink earlier.

“Oh, shut up!” John laughed and swatted his arm, nearly tipping Sherlock’s drink to the ground. They both started sniggering.

“Careful, idiot!”

“I am not an idiot!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Mhm, I can clearly remember that you’re an idiot, always have been.”

They kept going like it like this for several minutes. They were interrupted by Molly who asked them if they wanted to go for a dance. They declined, preferring to tease each other some more. When Molly and Greg left them behind Sherlock noticed something he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you want to know why I know that you’re definitely an idiot?”

“Sure, tell me, I can’t wait,” John said ironically. 

“Your vest is see-through.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, I can see your nipples.”

“Really?” He lifted his hands towards his pecks, tracing his fingertips over them and tugging the fabric this way and that.

“Yes, see, I was right. You’re an idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot! Maybe I wanted it to be see-through.”

“Really? Why? To seduce some chicks? I hate to break it to you, John, but you’re at a gay club. Not many straight girls here …”

“I know that, but maybe I didn’t want to seduce any girls.” He looked down quickly, picked up his drink, took a sip, looked Sherlock in the eye and gave him a saucy wink. 

Sherlock blushed like he had never blushed before and averted his eyes. He looked back at John when he heard him giggling. Sherlock joined him in his giggling fit and it took them more than a minute to get their shit together. 

Soon after Greg and Molly returned, slightly sweaty from dancing, and they all started chatting. Greg talked about his costume, because Sherlock had assumed he was just dressed as a businessman, but apparently he was Clarke Kent, whomever that may be. Molly was dressed up as Alice from Alice in Wonderland, wearing a beautiful light blue dress and a blonde wig that looked like real hair. Sherlock had perfected her make-up as well, making her eyes look really big, just like in the Disney movie. 

They were talking and sipping their drinks. Molly and Greg occasionally hitting the dance floor but John and Sherlock staying put around their high table and chatting merrily. When a new pop song blasted through the speakers Sherlock suddenly shouted: “Oh, great song! Come on John, let’s go dance.” He grabbed John and dragged him to the centre of the dance floor. John couldn’t help noticing all the eyes following Sherlock, staring unapologetically at his behind. John felt his anger boiling up so he stepped closer to Sherlock, trying to shield Sherlock’s ass form peering eyes and if that meant he bumped into him once or twice, John couldn’t really care less. 

Sherlock stopped when he found a small empty place for them to stand comfortably between the mass of people. He spun around facing John and smiled broadly at him. John leaned closer, preferring to lean in instead of having to shout into Sherlock’s ear. 

“You know this song?”

“Yes, it’s one of Molly’s favourites. Don’t ask me who it’s from, though, couldn’t tell you.”

John noticed Sherlock had grabbed his upper arm, effectively keeping him in place, while they were leaning into each other to talk. John lifted his hand and placed it on Sherlock’s waist, just for balance, of course. 

“I can actually play it on the violin.”

“You still play?”

John could feel Sherlock nodding, his curls bouncing against the side of his face. “I do and I’m even better then I was before.”

John rolled his eyes although Sherlock couldn’t see. “Of course you are, git.” 

“I could play it for you tonight, if you want?”

“Are you inviting me to your flat?”

“I am. Molly doesn’t like me making noise late at night, we have rules, but she might go over to Greg’s later, so…”

Were they still talking about the violin? Or was the whole ‘making noise at night’ innuendo for something else? 

A slow song came on. Sherlock looked around him and saw everyone pairing up; grabbing one of the people they were with and hold them close. He looked down at John who was smiling at him, his right hand raised as if asking him to dance. He lifted his eyebrows. Sherlock’s smile widened and lifted his left hand into John’s. Sherlock lifted his other hand and rested it on John’s shoulder, pulling him towards his chest and sliding both his arms around his neck. He could feel John’s arms slide around his thinner-than-usual waist. His face almost touching his chest but then John looked up, craning his neck. 

“Damn, you’re so tall it’s ridiculous.” 

“Does that bother you?” A frown appeared on his face.

“Of course not, it’s just really difficult to look you in the eye without hurting myself.”

“Well, I won’t always be wearing these heels.”

“I know that. Now shut up, I thought you wanted to dance.”

“I do.” He pulled John just a little bit closer so that their chests were touching. He felt John turning his head and resting his cheek against Sherlock’s shoulder facing outwards. They kept slow dancing like that for the next couple of songs, even though they weren’t actually slow songs. Sherlock didn’t really listen to the other songs, though; he was concentrating on the feeling of John so close to him. 

He felt John’s breath ghosting over his shoulder in steady puffs and he felt John’s hands travel in small increments over his back. Up and down, left to right, tapping to the rhythm, playing with the ruffles on the corset. At one moment John decided to turn his head, nuzzling into the crook of Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock felt him take in lungs full of air and huff it out against his chest. The crown of John’s head was at the perfect height and place to rest his own cheek against, so he did.

They weren’t really dancing anymore; they were holding each other. Sherlock could feel the change in their relationship while it was happening. Their hands weren’t just moving, they were caressing. Their breathing wasn’t just to get air, but more to inhale the other person. And they weren’t really listening to the music; they were listening to each other: their breathing and their heartbeats. 

Then John talked. Sherlock lifted his chin from John’s head and lowered it to hear what he was saying. John leaned up a bit, to make Sherlock hear more easily. “I missed you, so much, all these years. I didn’t realise it until I saw you again. But I did miss you. And I think I sabotaged all my relationships because I knew deep down, they were not what I wanted. _You_ are what I wanted, but I didn’t realise, or I couldn’t, I don’t know. You’re what I still want, though, and now I can. Sherlock, fuck, I’m so happy you’re finally here, in my arms.”

Sherlock had listened to this confession without being able to breathe. How was one supposed to respond to this? I knew he couldn’t respond his feelings through words; he needed to seal this with a kiss. He lifted his hand from John’s back, towards his chin, steering his face so their noses were nearly touching. This was it. It was officially about to happen. John and Sherlock were finally taking their first step. John’s eyes flickered towards Sherlock’s lips and Sherlock took that as his cue. He closed his eyes and leaned in, hoping John was doing the same thing. 

He wasn’t. First Sherlock felt him lean back and then he heard him mumble: “Fuck”. Sherlock’s eyes shot open. There was a pained and concerned look on John’s face. Sherlock was confused and alarmed. Had he done something wrong? Had he totally misunderstood? Before he was able to ask what was wrong however John spoke, “come with me.” He tugged him along and Sherlock followed him off the dance floor back to their now empty table. He spun around and didn’t hesitate to tell Sherlock what was up. 

“What about boyfriend and your, er, plan?”

“My what?”

“Your boyfriend, Victor? And your great sex plan. I’m not part of it, am I?”

“Victor is not my boyfriend.”

“Didn’t you have sex? Greg mentioned something.”

“No, yes, well, sort of.” 

John looked exasperated. “There is no such thing as ‘sort of having sex’, Sherlock.”

“Kissing and frottage. That’s hardly sex, is it?”

“Did you come?”

“Yes.”

“Did he come?”

“Yes.”

“Then you had sex, simple as that.” 

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend.”

“So he was part of the sex-plan?”

“Not really, at first maybe, but not when we had, er, relations.”

“So you quit the plan before you had sex. Why? Did you have feelings for him?”

“No.”

“Did he have feelings for you?”

“Could be, though I’m sure they weren’t very serious.”

“You can’t just forget about him all of a sudden, Sherlock. I mean, I don’t like him much, and I thought he was taking advantage of you but it looks to me like it was the other way around. Go fix it. Otherwise this,” he pointed between Sherlock and him, “is not going to happen.” 

“John?”

“Go fix it, apologise, tell him you can’t keep seeing him, tell him you lied to him, tell him about the plan, I don’t care what you do, but you’ll fix it first.” 

“John?”

“No, Sherlock, I’d like to start off on a clean slate, I don’t want this to start off on a bunch of lies.”

“John! Listen to me.” He had grabbed John by both his shoulders, shaking him lightly. 

“What?”

“I already did that. I already apologised and broke off our _relationship_ , whatever you want to call it. He totally saw it coming. He knew I wasn’t over you, he knew from the beginning him and me was never going to happen. And actually, he wished us the best.”

“He did?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, I’m glad that’s sorted then,” Sherlock saw the relief wash over him. A short silence fell between them. They were staring at each other, both of them knowing what was about to happen but both still afraid to take that step.

“So, er, what made you quit the plan?” John asked, a hopeful look clearly visible on his face. 

Sherlock smiled, knowing which answer was longing to hear. “You’d have to be an idiot not to know what, or shall I say, _who_ changed my mind.” 

John grabbed Sherlock behind his neck and pulled him closer so he could whisper against his mouth, “good thing I’m not an idiot then.”

Sherlock smiled wide, waiting for John to move just that little bit closer. He waited, and waited and after a few seconds of them staring googly-eyed into each other eyes, Sherlock whispered: “Will you please just kiss me now?”

“I’d love to.” There was no hesitation after that. This kiss was long overdue and it couldn't have been more perfect. Their lips crashed together and Sherlock let out a tiny, needy whine. The world was spinning around them and holding onto John was all Sherlock could do. When he pulled away first to breathe, Sherlock whispered against John’s mouth: “finally, finally, finally”, alternating each word with a quick peck on his lips. 

John’s lips parted, presumably due to him smiling but Sherlock took advantage from the situation and pushed his tongue inside John’s mouth. John followed and opened his mouth further, chasing Sherlock’s tongue with his own. John’s hands were moving from his neck towards his hair, treading his fingers through the curls and pulling slightly. One hand remained there while the other moved back down, over his shoulder, over his side, towards his spine, and then even lower until he reached the small of his back, right above the end of his corset, tracing his finger along the edge of it. 

If John could play with the edge of his corset, Sherlock would surely be allowed to grab John’s ass, right? He moved his hands over John’s shoulders, down his front, pausing at his erect nipples and giving them a quick squeeze, earning him a desperate moan. His fingers trailed further down, over John’s stomach and then to the side, over his hips, sides and down to the small of his back and then creeping even further down until his finger reached John’s well-defined arse cheeks. Sherlock spread his hands, covered John’s cheeks and squeezed. They felt even better than Sherlock could have ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!!! Am I right? 
> 
> Let me know how you liked it.
> 
> Feel free to come visit [my tumblr](http://allthingsjohnlockao3.tumblr.com/) for updates and more Johnlock. Yay!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock takes John home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello dearest reader. 
> 
> So, just a heads up, I recently started my first ever proper job which is very exciting, but it also means I won't be able to update so often. I will still try and update once a week, but I'm just really unsure if I'll keep that up. But, not to worry. I'm thinking I could either just write smaller chapters and then update once a week, or keep doing them like before but just less often. I don't know yet, time will tell, I guess.
> 
> Anywho, hope you enjoy!

Things got heated very quickly. Sherlock forgot they were in public, forgot they were in the middle of the dance floor and forgot they were supposed to be dancing. It just felt so good to finally hold John, to finally have him so near him, and to finally be able to lock lips. Sherlock was still gripping John’s arse, pulling him as close as possible, wanting to feel John’s entire body to his own, wanting to feel every square centimetre of his body. When he was satisfied with John’s closeness, figuring John couldn’t possibly get any closer, Sherlock let go of his behind and trailed his hands back up, one to the back of John’s head, pulling him in to deepen the kiss and one the small of his back, just to make sure he stayed as close as possible. 

Just then John decided to tear his mouth away from Sherlock’s and trailed a path of sloppy, wet kisses on his cheek and down towards his neck. Sherlock wanted to let out a tiny moan of despair in John’s absence but it soon turned into a moan of pleasure. John was brilliant, he really was. He wanted to say it, he wanted to encourage John with ‘yeah, keep doing that’ or ‘so good’ or just plain and simple ‘you’re brilliant’, but he couldn’t get out a single syllable. 

John felt the vibrations in Sherlock’s throat, he knew he was trying to speak but wasn’t able to. The fact that he could render Sherlock speechless hit him right in the gut. He was getting hard and it was impossible to concentrate on anything else but Sherlock. Hearing his tiny little desperate moans, breaths and sighs were apparently affecting John more than the actual act of kissing him. 

This was unexpected. He’d never figured himself to have a more auditory kink than a visual or a tactile one. Furthermore, he’d never felt the need to please someone else as much as he wanted to please Sherlock now. Normally he’d be more selfish, trying to satisfy his own pleasure and need as quickly as possible, but now, he wanted to draw it out, make it last as long as he could and make Sherlock even more desperate and begging for it. 

This was totally new and John didn’t really know why. Maybe it was because he’d wanted Sherlock for so long. Or maybe because he was concerned Sherlock might not like kissing that much, him being so inexperienced. Or maybe John loved Sherlock so much that he just wanted to satisfy him and didn’t even want to think about himself? John couldn’t for the life of him tell you what had changed, except for the tiny little detail that apparently he was an utterly changed man since the moment he had kissed Sherlock. 

John was ravenous now; he needed more. He stopped playing with Sherlock’s corset and moved his right hands towards Sherlock’s hair, trailing his fingers through it and clutching his curls. Then he pulled his hair, not unroughly, elongating his neck so he had more expanse to play with and hereby eliciting another one of Sherlock’s frantic whines. He nosed, sucked, licked and kissed every piece of skin his small posture could reach and gave some special attention to his collarbones, which were still lathed with glitter. He could taste that, together with Sherlock’s skin, his sweat, his aftershave and just .. Sherlock. When he felt he’d done enough damage to Sherlock’s neck he gave him one last soft bite and then pulled away, craning his neck again to look onto Sherlock’s eyes. 

They were closed, his head was still leaning backwards and it was slightly leaning towards the left. It looked like he had a satisfied look on his face, but John couldn’t really tell with the make up and stuff. He could notice, though, that Sherlock wasn’t moving, it was as if he didn’t really register that John had stopped, so he lifted the hand that wasn’t currently fisting his hair and rested it on Sherlock’s cheek, trying to get his attention. 

“Sherlock, are you alright?” He tried speaking into his ear, though he couldn’t rally reach. He had heard it because he slowly opened his eyes, one before the other and then he straightened his neck, looking straight ahead over John’s smaller frame. John tried to make himself as tall as possible but Sherlock wasn’t really paying him any attention so he gently pulled his face downwards, towards himself. He could see Sherlock’s eyes now. They were fully dilated and he could see the surprise and desperation in them. Or was it shock? Then Sherlock finally responded.

“We need to go.”

“Why? I’m having a lovely time.”

“Yes, me too, very lovely, but I promised you some violin and it getting really late. And, er, by the way, there is glitter all over your mouth. It’s like you’re wearing lipstick.”

“Well, I bet I can pull it off.” A goofy grin spread on his face.

“Mhm, it looks great, but it clashes with your outfit. A soldier with glitter all over his face is frankly one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen.” Sherlock smiled big now, making John believe he’d shaken off his little distraction form earlier. 

“Okay, come on, then, let’s go.” 

 

***

After Sherlock found Greg and Molly, both shaking it on the dance floor, he whispered into Molly’s ear to definitely not go to their apartment tonight. Molly gave him a wink, waved at John. They left the club and took a cab to Sherlock’s home. 

When they were seated in the cab Sherlock received a text from Molly. 

**Have fun.**

**I’m sure that won’t be a problem, if you catch my drift. -SH**

**I do… Be safe and remember rule nr. 8! I don’t want to see any stains on the couch!**

**Can’t promise anything. -SH**

**Sherlock!**

**We’ll be good. -SH**

“Who’s that?” John asked after that last text. 

“Molly, I asked her not to come home tonight and she agreed without even asking why, though I do assume she’ll know why.” He looked over at John who was beaming at him and gave him a wink. “And she’s being concerned, told us to be safe and all.”

“Now _that_ is a good friend.”

Sherlock agreed. They were silent for the rest of the ride, the anticipation building. After a minute or so John reached over to grab Sherlock’s hand, reminding him of the fact that they could touch each other now. Sherlock grinned remembering the fact that he had touched John Watson’s buttocks and that he was now the only person who was allowed to do so, or so he assumed. He wanted to lean over and grab John again, wanting to touch him all over but he refrained himself. To the outside world they were just two blokes sharing a cab but inside the cab Sherlock’s mind was racing. 

When the cab stopped at Sherlock’s doorstep John paid the cabbie. Sherlock got out, waited for John and led him towards his apartment and then through the door. They took their coats off and Sherlock offered John some tea but apparently John wasn’t in the mood for tea. When John went to sit on the couch he pulled Sherlock with him, effectively seating them very closely together on the couch. John didn’t wait for permission and just dove in, devouring Sherlock’s mouth like he’d been doing that exact action for years. 

Sherlock was shocked that John could act so wanton. He’d assumed John had his desire more or less under control like an actual adult instead of acting like a desperate and horny teenager. John was in fact being so enthusiastic and impatient that Sherlock had to giggle; he just couldn’t hold his laughter back. 

John pulled back as soon as he noticed. “Why are you laughing, am I that bad?”

Now Sherlock started sniggered even more. After a few seconds he was able to pull himself together. John had now retreated a bit, leaning against the back of the couch, away from Sherlock, concern and a bit of annoyance on his face. Sherlock turned towards him, at least as far as his corset would allow, and laid a hand on his cheek.

“You’re amazing, you’re just very, er, eager. It surprised me, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay,” his concern gave way to shyness, his face turned red form the blushing, “well, you know. You’re gorgeous and this outfit,” he gestured towards Sherlock’s corset and heels, “it’s very appealing.” 

Sherlock smiled. “Speaking of this corset, it’s really not made for sitting down, I’m quite uncomfortable, actually.” 

Sherlock tried standing up while still wearing his heels but then decided against it so he kicked the heels off, letting out a sigh of relief and then pushed himself to standing. 

“Ah, much better.” He checked himself over, trying to smooth the creases that might have formed from sitting down or dancing. His hands were travelling over the corset and when he’d checked every square inch he looked back at John wanting to ask again if he’d like some tea. 

John, however, looked a bit distracted. Sherlock hadn’t realised but he was standing right in front of John, giving John a lot to look at. He was blushing so much that the redness had travelled towards his ears and down his neck. 

“Gorgeous.” He managed to choke out. Sherlock didn’t really understand what had John so worked up until he realised his crotch was at John’s eyelevel. He’d just given John the show of a lifetime, twisting in turning and running his hands all over his body to check for damages. He looked John over, from head to toe and definitely noticed a bulge forming in his fatigues. 

John lifted his hand, wanting to touch Sherlock’s panties but Sherlock took John’s hand before it reached its destination and lifted it towards his mouth to give it a kiss. “You can help me undress later. But first,” Sherlock leaned over and gave John a quick peck on the lips, “I think you need some tea.”

He turned around, giving John an eyeful of his bum, wiggled a bit, just for John’s entertainment and then walked towards his room. He came back covered up with his favourite dark blue dressing gown. At first he saw the disappointment on John’s face but he soon managed to change that to a sense of relief. “Good thinking on the dressing gown, Sherlock, that outfit was driving me bonkers.”

Sherlock smiled as he entered the kitchen to make tea. John, who had regained full control of his wits, followed him in. 

“I knew you’d like it, I did it especially for you.”

“For me? Why?”

“To seduce you, of course.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, of course not, Molly helped me find the outfit.” 

“Okay, er, I need to make something clear, I think. You know I don’t like you because of the outfit, right? I mean, I do like it, a lot, don’t get me wrong. But that’s not the reason why I’m here. I like _you_ , not just the corset or the heels.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I know that, not an idiot, remember. But it did help, didn’t it?” Sherlock raised his eyebrows, challenging John to deny it. 

“Yeah,” John whispered. Sherlock started preparing the tea and together they waited for the kettle to boil.

“I just didn’t want you to see me as the kid you babysat, I guess. I wanted you to see me as an adult.” 

“Are you referring to that one time in the club, when I said that to Victor? I just said that to throw him off, take his hands off you. I couldn’t stand it.” Even now, when he was talking about it John could feel himself turn angry again. 

“I like it when you’re jealous.” 

John thought it best not to gift Sherlock with a response to that. He’d be lying if he denied being jealous and he’d just be encouraging Sherlock if he agreed. So he just didn’t do either. Instead he took two cups from in the cupboard and put them on the counter, giving Sherlock the opportunity to pour the water inside. Before he did though, Sherlock gave John a peck on his lips. “You’re adorable.”

John scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I guess I am. Come on, I owe you some violin.”

Sherlock led them into his room. John recognized some of his old furniture and belongings. His old lamp was there, as was his desk, equally as messy as it had been years ago. His bed was different though; he had a big-boy bed now, queen-sized, it was crammed into the corner of his room. While Sherlock moved to retrieve his violin from its case John sat down on Sherlock’s bed, after placing both their teas on Sherlock’s desk and then scooting back until he could lean against the wall. 

“Remember that one night when I stayed in your room because of the storm?” He smiled at the memory of it.

“It was hardly a storm, John, but yes, I do remember, that was fun but a little awkward.”

“Was it?”

“Yes, I was so in love with you back then, I didn’t know how to act around you because I was afraid you’d notice how mad I was for you.” He sniggered remembering. “I think I actually watched you sleep for the majority of the night.”

“Really? That’s adorable, and slightly creepy.”

Sherlock was blushing fiercely and dipped his head to hide his reddening face. He heard John tittering. 

“Sherlock?” He waited until Sherlock lifted his face again. “I don’t care, it’s cute, I like that you had a crush on me, it’s quite reassuring, actually.”

“Have, present tense, I don’t think it ever stopped” Sherlock corrected him, this made John smile even more. They were silent for a second, just looking at each other and swimming in a sea of mutual adoration.

“Come on, you wanted to play me something.”

Sherlock nodded and went to stand in the centre of his room. He raised his bow, took a deep breath and then started playing. It was beautiful. John recognised the song from the club immediately. Sherlock had slowed it down a bit, so it wasn’t as danceable anymore, but the melody was still nice. 

John was in absolute awe. How could one person be so talented, beautiful and smart all at once? He looked him over again, noticing his black tights under his dressing gown, the tie of the robe getting looser and looser and eventually falling open, revealing the corset once again. He shouldn’t be creeping on Sherlock like that so he berated himself and refocused on Sherlock’s face. His eyes were closed and his mouth formed a small smile. His features looked relaxed, hopeful and content and as his body swayed to the melody of the music John realised this was the happiest he’d seen Sherlock in years. 

When the song was nearly over, John moved off the bed, as quietly as possible and stood in front of Sherlock until the song ended. When Sherlock took the bow off the strings and opened his eyes, he stood face to face with a man that looked utterly gobsmacked. Sherlock froze.

John took both violin and bow and laid them on the clutter on Sherlock’s desk. While he did so, he spoke: “I know I’ve said this before, and I know you hate it when I repeat myself, but,” he sighed, “you’re amazing.”

Sherlock blinked, and blinked, and blinked again, looked down at John anxiously, not knowing what to do or how to react, so he just waited until John did something to break the silence. 

“Come on, let’s get you out of this.” His hand trailed up to the collar of Sherlock’s dressing gown, he opened it up more and let it fall across his bare shoulders and eventually to the floor. He gave Sherlock a small peck on his left shoulder, moved across both his collarbones with tiny kisses and then kissed his left shoulder. After that he turned Sherlock around and started undoing the corset with his steady and very doctoral fingers. 

Sherlock could feel the corset opening up, bit by bit and took a deep breath. He got goose bumps where his skin was newly exposed to the air after hours of confinement. When it was loose enough John turned him around again and opened the corset up from the front. He took it and gently placed it on a stack of books next to Sherlock’s desk. He turned around had hissed through his teeth. He was at Sherlock’s side in a half a second and traced the marks on his skin with his fingers. “Those looks painful, does it hurt?”

Sherlock still couldn’t speak, so shocked by the gentleness by which John was treating to him, so he just shook his head. Then Sherlock realised he was standing almost completely naked in front of John. 

“I, er,” he mumbled, “I feel exposed.”

“Oh, sorry, yes, I’ll, er…” John stopped talking and stopped caressing Sherlock’s body. He stepped right in front of Sherlock and lifted his own arms over his head, waiting for Sherlock to remove his slightly see-through vest. So he did and threw it behind him, not caring where exactly it would end up.

John’s skin was golden, smooth and Sherlock’s hands shot towards his pectorals just to feel how smooth John really was. He had some blonde hairs around his small, pink and already erect nipples and a bit across the rest of his upper torso. He didn’t used to have these; back when he was seventeen he still had a hairless chest, if Sherlock could remember correctly. He was curious now, he wanted, no, _needed_ to trail his fingers through it. 

The hair was soft to the touch and so overwhelmingly erotic that Sherlock couldn’t take it any longer. John had to be naked, now. He needed to know what that path of soft blonde hair under his belly button led to. Sherlock had imagined and dreamed about what John had hidden in his pants since he was 15 years old and he was so close to finding out now. Would it be big or small? Would it be shaved or trimmed or just au natural? Would it be pale or very pink? Would it be straight or would there be some curve to it? 

Sherlock was imagining so many kinds of cocks and he _was_ curious, but in the end, he didn’t fucking care. He just needed John to be naked in his bed. Sherlock trailed his fingers down over John’s pectorals and his abdominal muscles towards the button of his army slacks. 

It turns out that trying to open up someone else’s pants isn’t that easy, at least not when your hands are shaking because of some irrational nerves. Sherlock cursed at himself for his failings. 

“Stupid, why can’t I open these bloody trousers?” John’s hands were on his the second he’d said it.

“Hold on, let me.” John let go of Sherlock’s hands to start opening up the button and Sherlock was so awestruck by the gentleness of John again, that he took John’s face in his hands and kissed him hard on the mouth. 

“Look down, I’ve got a surprise for you.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, assuming John was talking about his erection or something and was just about to tell him off on it when he did actually look down to see something bright red. His pants. His old pants. His old red pants.

“Are these?” 

“Yep.”

“You’ve had them all this time?”

“Yes, I don’t wear them much, you see, only on special occasions, they’re my lucky pants. ”

Sherlock couldn’t believe it, he burst out laughing and John soon joined him. They were laughing so intensely that Sherlock forgot they were on the brink of having sex. He was heaving he could hardly stand up straight so he moved towards his bed and dropped down on it. Between laughing fits he managed to say: “You’re utterly ridiculous.”

John had simmered down to some graceful sniggering now, sitting beside Sherlock on the bed and responded. “Am I, though? I think they worked pretty well tonight.” John scooted towards the head of the bed and got under the covers. He reached out his hand to Sherlock as if he was asking him to dance and asked: “join me?”

Sherlock nodded, he stood up, took off his stockings and turned off the lights before joining John under the covers where John was waiting for him. He was lying with his back to the wall, waiting for Sherlock to come in and lie across from him. Sherlock scooted closer, resting in the same position but facing each other, noses nearly touching. They remained there for a while, their eyes adjusting to the darkness, no one speaking, just smiling, blushing, blinking and downward staring at each other. 

“You’re absolutely gorgeous.” John spoke first. He moved his hand towards Sherlock’s face, tracing his fingers over Sherlock’s nose, lips, and cheekbones and through his hair. Sherlock closed his eyes, enjoying the caresses from his one and only crush. John stopped his stroking and laid his hand on the back of Sherlock’s head, pulling him even closer towards him. The kiss was gentle now, their lips softly touching. There was no heat or passion now, just love and tenderness. 

John had a hard time separate his lips from Sherlock’s, but he did, and laid himself down on his back, pulling Sherlock with him. Sherlock scooted closer to John, his front touching John’s side. His shoulder was settled in John’s armpit and he used John’s left shoulder to rest his head on. He lifted his hands from his sides and placed it flat against John’s chest so he was able to caress John’s torso, stroking his nipples and running his finger through his chest hair. 

“That tickles.”

“Sorry.” Sherlock lifted his hand, afraid of annoying John.

“Didn’t tell you to stop touching me.” John smiled reassuringly and looked down at Sherlock. “Please, don’t ever stop touching me, I’ve been waiting so long for you.” Sherlock wanted to be closer still, which was technically impossible but he lifted his right leg and interlaced it between John’s legs. Sherlock was comfortable now so he decided to call it a night. He planted a kiss on John’s shoulder and murmured ‘goodnight’. 

“’Night, Sherlock.”

He must’ve dosed off for a bit because when he came back to, they weren’t intertwined anymore. In fact they weren’t even touching anymore. While Sherlock had mostly stayed in the same position on his side near the centre of the bed, John had moved towards the wall, with his back to Sherlock. 

You know those nights when you just can’t sleep? You toss and turn for hours and yet your body cannot get into a comfortable position or your mind just keep racing and can’t calm down? Well, that’s what Sherlock felt after waking up, with John facing the other way. His mind was going through all the different reason as to why John’s subconscious didn’t want to lie next to him. 

After watching the back of John’s head for what seemed like hours Sherlock stood up and left the room. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and stopped in the bathroom to relieve himself. When he stepped back into the room he noticed their barely touched tea mugs on his desk. He figured he should take those to the kitchen and clean them out before the tea would start staining the cups. He was just about to pick them up when he heard John shifting in the bed; he looked at him and saw that he had turned facing the room his arms stretched out again.

“Why aren’t you in here with me?” He tried to speak. It was barely a whisper, his voice cracking from sleep. 

“I, er, couldn’t sleep.” Sherlock whispered back, not sure why he was whispering, he could’ve just said it.

John smiled. “Really? You were doing fine earlier. In fact, you were so deeply asleep while practically lying on top of me that I had to wiggle out underneath of you just so I could breathe again. You were like a hundred pound octopus that was trying to suffocate me.”

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I liked it, it was just a little too warm.” He looked over at Sherlock, seeing him standing there with the two cups in his hands. 

“Put those down and get back in here, I missed you.” 

Sherlock couldn’t contain his smile and he didn’t even try to hide it. He just put the cups back where he found them and got back under the covers. He didn’t get too close to John, afraid of smothering him again so he stayed on his side of the bed. Now it was John who scooted closer. 

“Turn over.” He gently pushed Sherlock on his side, his back facing John, and John scooted in, spooning him. Sherlock could feel John’s body against his back, nice and warm, he could feel his breath carding through his hair and John put his arm around his waist, pulling him in even closer. 

Sherlock was completely surrounded by John and he had never felt so complete in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to follow me on [tumblr](http://www.allthingsjohnlockao3.tumblr.com) for more Johnlock to tell me how you liked it!
> 
> Oh, and just so you know, you guys are amazeballs!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending the night together, just sleeping mind you, Sherlock and John get a surprise visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I am soooooo sorry it's been so long. I've been superbusy and I haven't fount much time to write which sucks, because I enjoy this, I really do! 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you're all happy with the update, I made it extralong for your enjoyment ;) 
> 
> Also, I've got 100 likes on this, which is pretty amazeballz! You're awesome, thank you so much!
> 
> So, off with the story:

Sherlock woke up feeling quite cold. He was lying on his stomach, his head to the side and his arm draped over John. He quickly found out why he was cold while lying so close to another person: the covers were pushed downward, only just covering his behind. He groaned, snuggled a little closer to his heating source and then opened his eyes. 

The first thing he saw was John’s smile, meaning he was already awake. 

“I don’t really know how it’s possible but you look even more beautiful now than you did last night.”

“You must be kidding. I bet I look like a raccoon.” Sherlock muffled into the cushion, while stretching his still sleepy body. 

“A what?”

“A raccoon, isn’t my make-up smudged?”

“Not really. It’s just mostly worn off.” John was staring at him with a smile on his face and so much affection in his eyes that Sherlock nearly died of a soppiness-overload. His eyes were eyeing all over his face. “I like your hair like this.” He turned towards Sherlock, so that they were positioned face to face and ran his hand through it, mussing it up even more. 

Sherlock buried his face in the pillow again, groaning and asking John to stop, but he wouldn’t. So Sherlock reached down and pulled the covers from his low back up and over his head, shutting John out of his little cocoon. He heard John laughing on the other side of the bed sheets and then felt him trying to wriggle underneath. 

He managed, but only because Sherlock let him. 

“Hey beautiful, good morning.” He whispered when their faces were only centimetres apart. 

“Morning, John.” 

John leaned in and gave Sherlock a closed mouthed kiss on the lips. Sherlock assumed John didn’t want to expand, it being the morning and all. They’ll probably get to that after breakfast and a wash. John however wasn’t having it and deepened the kiss, prodding his tongue against Sherlock’s still-closed lips and trying to gain access but Sherlock backed away, breaking the kiss. 

“Oh,” John’s hand moved to cover his mouth, “is it that bad?” He looked concerned and moved backwards, keeping his distance.

“No, John.” Sherlock took him by the shoulders and pulled him closer again. 

“I don’t care and honestly, I have lost most of my sense of smell after an experiment with some toxic chemicals gone bad.”

“Idiot.” But the smile was back on his face and the concerned look was gone. In fact, he leaned closer again, wanted to kiss Sherlock. But again, Sherlock leaned back. 

“Sherlock? Why won’t you kiss me then? Are you mad?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Of course not, it’s just that I … well, you know, I might smell. I, er, I can’t really tell.” 

“Sherlock, you don’t. Now, come here and let me give you a proper morning kiss.” 

He pulled Sherlock towards him and planted his lips on his before trying to deepen the kiss again. This time Sherlock let him. 

They kissed for a while before John pulled away with a sigh and said. It’s too hot under here; I need to get out from under these covers.“

“Mhm, okay, you take a shower and I’ll start breakfast.”

“You can always join me, you know.” John said expectantly. 

Sherlock smiled. “Next time.”

***

When John got out of the shower he looked around for something to wear. He hadn’t brought anything clean and he didn’t just want to wear Sherlock’s stuff without asking, so he just put on his red pants from yesterday for a minute and walked towards the kitchen, where he heard Sherlock rummaging about. Before he effectively entered the kitchen however, he heard someone say his name. 

“John?”

He startled. It couldn’t be Sherlock, he was in the kitchen and he would’ve recognized his voice, it wasn’t Greg or Molly either, he would’ve recognized theirs too, so whose could it possible be?

He turned around slowly, bracing himself for the awkwardness that was about to ensue. When he saw the person whose voice it belonged to, he realised nothing could’ve shocked him more. Sherlock’s mother was sitting on the couch in Sherlock’s living room. Her coat was hanging over her knees; her purse was standing on top of that and her hands were resting on top of her purse.

“Mrs Holmes, hello. How lovely to see you again.” He managed to say after he mentally kicked himself over the head a few times. 

“Yes, John, you too. Now, say, are those my Sherlock’s pants?”

John looked down at himself, as if he had forgotten what he put on a minute ago and then he remembered. Yes, those were in fact Sherlock’s pants that he was wearing as the only article of clothing currently on his body. John wished the world would swallow him whole. 

When he looked back up he saw Sherlock’s mother grinning. 

He started trying to explain himself but couldn’t get out more than: “I, er, we, it’s not, …, er, …” 

“John, darling, don’t worry. You have now idea how pleased I am to know that my son is in such good and kind hands.”

“Mother, please, stop embarrassing him,” came Sherlock’s voice from behind him. 

“Sherlock, don’t tell me what to do, and go get John something decent to wear so I can take you both out for breakfast. Come on, chop chop.”

 

***

“So, how long has this been going on?” Sherlock’s mother asked right before she sipped her freshly squeezed orange juice. 

They were seated at a small round table in the middle of a trendy bakery not too far from Sherlock’s apartment. After Sherlock’s shower and after John had tried on most of Sherlock’s wardrobe and finally finding something that more or less fit, they had walked the five minute walk to the shop. Sherlock’s mother had walked in the middle holding on to both John and Sherlock. 

Sherlock and John had managed to avoid the topic of their relationship so far, both uncertain of what their relationship even was, but it seemed they couldn’t postpone it any longer. 

John and Sherlock looked at each other for a second and John lifted his shoulder, cueing Sherlock to respond. And of course, Sherlock had to be brutally honest about it.

“About nine hours.”

John could hear Mrs Holmes swallow her juice. Her eyes were big in shock.

“9 hours?”

John felt his face heat up. Trust Sherlock to make the situation even more embarrassing than it already was, that was definitely a case of classic ‘TMI’ for a mother to hear about her son. 

She continued. “Well, actually I’m surprised it took you that long. Really Sherlock, how long have you been in love with this boy.” 

“Mother!”

“What, I’m sure John knew.”

“He didn’t.” Sherlock hissed, as if John wasn’t supposed to hear this.

“Sure,” She looked at John for a second, as if she just remembered he was also there and gave him a little wink, then she turned back to her son, “your father will also be very pleased to hear you’ve found yourself a boyfriend.” 

“Mother, please stop. John is not my boyfriend. Nothing has happened yet and you’re already ruining our new relationship.”

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m just really excited and proud, … , and delighted. We’ll talk about something else if you’d like.”

Sherlock nodded his approval.

“How is Molly doing? And Greg?”

“Fine.” 

“Is it still working out between the two of you, you know, living together? You’re not being difficult are you?

“Of course not!” As if the thought alone was unheard off. 

Sherlock’s mother and John smiled at Sherlock’s reaction of utter innocence. 

“I think she wants to kick me out though.”

“What?” Sherlock’s mother looked shocked. Sherlock continued, explaining himself. “I think she wants to move in with Greg or she wants Greg to move in with us or something. Anyways, I adore her as a friend and surprisingly we fit well together as flatmates, but I think she wants to be more with Greg. I can understand, they’ve been together for ages now.”

“Has she talked about it with you?” John asked.

“No, not yet, but I can tell she’s quite conflicted about it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t worry about it if she hasn’t talked to you yet. She won’t throw you out one day to the next.” 

“I guess not.”

“What would you do if she kicked you out?

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. “I’d love to live by myself but I can’t afford it. So a flatmate it is, but who’d want as a flatmate?”

John looked at his beautiful friend and then at his mother who was in deep thought about the whole situation. 

“I do.”

Sherlock sighed. “No, you really don’t, I’m awful.”

“Sherlock, what are you talking about? I wouldn’t be sitting here if I thought you were awful, would I? You’re amazing and anyone should be lucky to have you in their life.”

They heard Sherlock’s mother gasp slightly, then she spoke, quietly as if she was afraid she might ruin the moment with her speech.

“Why don’t you move in together?” She blurted out, then she quieted down, and let it sink in for a second. “Actually, I know of a place. Mrs Hudson told me about it just last week. You know she knows this baker’s couple in town. They told her they wanted to retire and they have actually asked her to take over the place. It has some nice apartments upstairs. She showed me some pictures. We should go and have a look!”

“Mother, please, calm down! You’re being hysterical and frenzied.” 

“Sherlock, don’t be so dramatic. Don’t you think it a good idea?”

Sherlock looked at John for a second, just so he could see what John thought about it. He saw a big smile on John’s face. Either it signified amusement at the conversation between Sherlock and his mother or it was excitement at the thought of living together. Either way, John didn’t seem unenthusiastic about the whole idea and then John surprised him by pitching in to his mother’s fantasy.

“I actually think it’s great idea. Mrs Hudson could be our landlady, so we know she won’t take advantage of us, I could work in the bakery, like I did at home and earn some money or get her to lower the rent a bit and I won’t have to live with Mike anymore. I mean, the bloke is great but he snores so loudly it’s like he’s sawing a tree in my room sometimes.”

Sherlock’s mother nodded enthusiastically throughout his reasoning. “You know what, I’m going to call her. It’s Saturday, she might actually be in town. And then we’ll be able to go and take a look.” 

Before either Sherlock or John could stop her she was up and out of the shop, phone in hand, scrolling through her contacts and looking for the one she needed. 

“Sherlock, tell me now if you think it’s too soon.” 

Sherlock just looked at him for a second. He looked quite excited but also very concerned and Sherlock knew why. They were just starting a new step in their relationship. They hadn’t even had the are-you-my-boyfriend-conversation yet and they were already going to look at a flat? When Sherlock didn’t respond straight away John started panicking.

“It’s too soon isn’t it? Yeah, no, mhm, yeah, definitely too soon. I’ll go tell you’re mum.”

He started getting up from the seat but Sherlock stopped him by grabbing a hold of his upper arm.

“John.”

John sat back down and Sherlock lowered his hand to John’s, clutching it tightly.

“Stop freaking out. It’s not like were going to get married here. Let’s just go look at the flat and then we’ll see from there, okay?”

He guided John’s hand toward his mouth and gave it a chaste kiss. It was an oddly endearing move on Sherlock’s part and one John would have never expected from him. That was also the exact moment Sherlock’s mother decided to re-enter the shop. Her face lit up at the sight of the little endearing act and she rushed over to their table, clapping her hands when she reached them.

“The two of you are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen and I simply cannot wait for your wedding.” She was teasing, of course. Sherlock new that, but why do parents always want to embarrass their children, is it one of the rules of being a parent?

“Anyways,” she said when she sat down again, “turns out we won’t be able to go by the apartment today, so I’ll talk to Mrs Hudson later and ask if we can go next weekend. What do you think?”

“Yeah, sounds good. That gives you more time to find out what Molly’s plans are, Sherlock.”

“I guess so.”

“So John, dear, I need to know. How is school? Are you’re still on course to become a doctor?”

Sherlock was kind of shocked she asked John about his education before she had asked her own son, but then again, she spoke to Sherlock all the time and hadn’t seen John in a while. 

“I sure am. Though some of the courses I’m reading are kicking my arse.” He blurted out before realising he’d said ‘arse’ in front of an elderly woman. He looked at Sherlock quickly, fear in his eyes before lowering them to the table. Mrs Holmes however, pretended she hadn’t even noticed. 

“Well, that’s understandable, you’re already four years in, it would be very unlikely if things got easier. Have you thought about getting a tutor?”

“I have, but, …, I don’t know, I’m a very independent person, I guess, I like to do things on my own, figure things out by myself and all that. And I’m just quite uncomfortable with a stranger tutoring me.” 

“How about one of your classmates, then? Get yourself a study buddy?” 

John smiled. “Yeah, the thing is, we’re all kind of struggling, I’m not sure why, maybe it’s the professor or something.” 

“What course is it?” Sherlock asked. He was curious now, he needed to know what had John’s panties is such a twist.

“I, er, well, it’s kind of embarrassing.” His eyes fell to the table again, avoiding Sherlock’s and his mother’s eyes. “It’s chemistry.”

“Why is that embarrassing, it’s a very difficult subject.” Mrs Holmes tried to comfort him.

“I used to be really good at it, I even corrected Sherlock’s chemistry assignments!” He pointed at Sherlock accusingly, as if it was all his fault.

Sherlock’s mother smiled. “Well, then, it’s time he pays you back then, for all the free assignment-correcting.”

John looked at her questioningly but Sherlock knew what she was trying to get at. 

She sighed when John showed no sign of understanding. “Sherlock can tutor you. He’s awfully good, or so he says.”

“I _am_ good at it, top of my class, and better than the professor. He said so himself. Now, mother, could you please stop meddling with our lives?”

***

They’d finished their brunch and had walked through some nearby shopping streets for a few hours when Sherlock’s mother decided to call it a day. 

They were in the middle of a bookstore where they’d decided to split up and meet by the registers thirty minutes later. Mrs Holmes had found a nice book on gardening and a book on Belgian desserts when she started heading to the registers. There was no sign of Sherlock or John so she waited a while, thinking she might have been a bit early. After ten more minutes of browsing through some stacks of books near the people waiting in line she started to get impatient. Where can those boys be?

She looked around the ground floor and when she couldn’t find them, she went to the first floor. She scanned the floor really quickly and noticed it was the children’s floor. Not much chance the boys were here, so she went up the next flight of stairs. There, on the second floor she immediately spotted them. Well, she spotted John but she could only see a part of him, she got nearer to him and rounded the corner John was behind when she spotted her son too. Sherlock was holding a book. So sucked into it that he probably hadn’t noticed the time, he hadn’t noticed his mother nearing and he hadn’t even noticed John who was hugging him from behind. His arms hugging his waist and his face planted between his shoulder blades. 

John did hear Sherlock’s mother nearing, so he turned his head towards her, acknowledging her presence. He spoke first. 

“He’s been standing here like this for 15 minutes. I tried getting his attention but he hasn’t moved an inch.” He was concerned; she could see it in his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, dear, he does that. He must find it” she nodded towards the book “very interesting.”

“No, I watched him, I don’t even think he’s reading. He’s just looking at it.”

“Then he’s thinking.” She smiled lovingly. “He loves to think. Come on, John, let’s sit down for a minute.” She moved towards an area to the middle of the floor where a couple of couches were set around a small table. 

John gave Sherlock a peck on the neck and reluctantly let go of his friend, dropping his arms and turning towards Mrs Holmes. He was halfway to the seats when he heard Sherlock speak. 

“John?”

He sounded bewildered, and when John turned around, Sherlock looked confused. 

“Hey, Sherlock, where have you been?” He stepped closer to him and Sherlock was doing the same, they were standing in front of each other in not time. 

“I’m sorry, I was thinking.” He was still clutching the book he had been so engrossed in and then John caught the title: “How to be the best roommate ever.”

It was one of those sarcastic self help books with lots of colours, photos and pictures but probably not much content. John laughed and almost couldn’t believe how cute Sherlock was being. Sherlock apparently didn’t find it that funny and looked at John worriedly. 

“God, you’re adorable.” John pronounced after he retained himself and grabbed Sherlock’s face with both hands. He pulled him towards himself and kissed him hard on the mouth. Sherlock let out a surprised moan but quickly returned John’s kiss, embracing him with the arm he didn’t use to hold on to the book. 

When the kiss ended, John leaned back a little bit, holding Sherlock’s gaze. “We don’t need that book.”

“We might, though. There might be some valuable information in here.”

“I highly doubt it Sherlock. Actually, I’m quite sure no scientist or any scientific research is mentioned in this. Do you really want to base your actions on a book that’s most likely written by a bunch of sorority girls?” 

“I guess not.”

“Okay then, put the book away.” He let go of Sherlock’s face now, leaning further back and giving Sherlock the chance to put the book on the nearest table. 

John kept eying Sherlock and noticed he still wasn’t entirely convinced of the books incompetence. 

“Sherlock, stop, you don’t have to worry about it. I already like you, remember?”

“Right. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. John waited patiently, an amused look on his face. “Okay, I’m good, let’s go.” 

When they turned around and saw Mrs Holmes sitting on the couch, watching them, John felt his embarrassment well up again. She had probably witnessed the whole thing. 

“Okay,” she spoke, getting up from the not so comfortable looking couch, “I’m going to leave you two lovebirds to it. Head home before the evening rush traffic.”

They went downstairs and waited patiently next to Mrs Holmes in line for the register. When they were stood outside the bookstore she pointed in the opposite direction of Sherlock’s apartment, “I’m headed that way. I’ll be in touch after I get some more information from Mrs Hudson.” She smiled and stood in front of her son, moving to hug him. He let her but John saw the embarrassment on his face. She let go and moved towards John. She held him close and whispered in his ear, “you are an absolute marvel, you made me the happiest mother in the world,” she kissed him on the cheek and let him go.

“I’ll see you boys soon.” Then she walked away. 

***

“I love your mother.” 

They were lying in Sherlock’s bed, facing each other. They had come home after saying goodbye to Mrs Holmes and had stopped on the way to get some take-away. They had eaten it while watching the news and then headed for bed, while it was only 8 o’clock. They had fooled around a little bit but hadn’t gone much further than kissing and groping and instead chose to enjoy each other’s company.

“Don’t tell my father that. He’s quite fond of her, too.” Sherlock laughed. John swatted his arm. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“I don’t know if you remember much of it, but she always slipped me way to much money after babysitting you. Seriously, together with my job at the bakery it was like I had a full time job, when all I really did was watch movies with you or sleep on the couch.” He paused there, but Sherlock knew he was thinking about what he wanted to say next, so he waited for him to carry on. 

“And, she told me to follow my dream, you know, to go to school. She spurred me on every time she saw me and really encouraged me to apply.” He smiled fondly. “When I ever become a famous doctor and win awards for my brilliance,” he said mockingly, knowing that was never going to happen, “and they ask me who inspired me, I’ll say: ‘my boyfriend’s mum’”.

Sherlock laughed with John’s ridiculous daydream and then abruptly stopped. He had been so amused by John’s idea of the future that he had almost managed to not notice the most important word in that story. Boyfriend.

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked straight into John’s. His were opened in slight shock, probably only just realising what he had said. Sherlock couldn’t keep a straight face after seeing John’s expression so he started grinning, hoping John would soon join him, laughing the incident off. But John didn’t, instead he grabbed Sherlock and kissed him full on the mouth and then leaned quickly to look Sherlock in the eye. Sherlock was a bit baffled by John’s sudden actions.

“I hate to be so cliché, but I have to ask, will you be my boyfriend?”

Sherlock stared into his eyes, hating the weightiness of the situation, but if he was true to himself, he knew this was the only question he’d ever hoped to hear out of John’s mouth. He nodded once, swallowed and then whispered: “Yeah.” Before he even finished saying that John’s lips were back on his. 

Sherlock felt the mood in his bedroom change from light and cheery to hot and needy. He felt in his body, his mind and he felt it in the way John was kissing him. Hot, hard and with a purpose. And that was just the kissing part. There was a whole lot more going on under the sheets. John had moved his entire body towards Sherlock’s, making them touch from head to toe, but that must’ve not been enough because John grabbed the sheets, pulled them down a bit and then turned them both over so that Sherlock was on his back with John on top of him. They were both only wearing pants and Sherlock could feel John trying to tug his down with one hand unsuccessfully. He helped him out by lifting his hips, a move he though would help the situation but only made it worse because it made their cocks grind together. They both groaned. 

They looked into each other’s eyes and seemed to agree on the course of action without using words. John let go of Sherlock’s pants, without tugging them down, and moved so that Sherlock’s legs were between his and he was more or less straddling Sherlock’s. He moved his body down so they were touching chests and their groins lined up. 

John moved his hips again, grinding them together and Sherlock felt his body react immediately. John groaned again and dragged his lip across Sherlock’s jaw and to his neck, moving down slowly, taking his time, inch per inch, savouring each newly concurred part of Sherlock’s perfectly formed neck, but never stopping to grind their hardened cocks together. 

“Mhm, Sherlock.” John panted. He had reached Sherlock’s collar bone now, sucked on it for a second and then licked all the way back up from where he came to Sherlock’s jaw, still not stopping the steady movement of his hips. 

While John seemed to know what he was doing, Sherlock was just enjoying the ride and letting John do all the work. He loved the grinding; the feeling of John’s cock rubbing against his was otherworldly. He loved John’s ministrations along his neck and jaw. After a little while Sherlock realised he was clutching the covers of the bed and realised he should be touching John. He let go of the covers and stretched his fingers before reaching for John’s body. He laid his hands on John’s back, and started digging his fingers into John’s skin, pulling him even closer to him. He wasn’t getting enough friction where he needed though, so he dragging his hands down, over John’s tanned, soft skin, over the small of his back towards the swelling of his bum. He rested his hand flat on the globes of his arse, enjoying the movement of the John’s strong muscles under his hands. And then he just dug his fingers in and pulled John as close as possible. 

“Ugh, Sh-”

“John,” Sherlock whined, closing his eyes to savour the feeling of John on top of him even more.

Hearing Sherlock say his name in that wanton way really did something for John. He needed to see Sherlock come as soon as possible. So with one hand he grabbed Sherlock’s hair, balancing himself on the bed with the other and leaned down closer so he could see every reaction on Sherlock’s face. 

“Sherlock,” John whispered, “open your eyes.”

He swallowed and then opened his eyes, looking right into John’s blue eyes. 

“Sherlock,” he swallowed, wet his lips and thrust his hips twice before he continued, “I want to see you come.” 

Sherlock let out a choked sound. It wasn’t really a moan or a grunt; it was more like a gasp of surprise mixed with a whine. He had never felt like this. John on top of him, his face sparkling with a sheen of sweat, his eyes big, bright and more beautiful than ever, his hair messed up slightly and the slip and slide of their sweaty chests. He knew he was on the brink of coming. 

It took two more of John’s delicious thrusts for Sherlock to actually come undone. He arched his back, threw his head back and whimpered. He was unable to breath for a few seconds and then started panting heavily. When he came down from his high, he felt John kissing his nose, his forehead, his cheekbone and whispering in between each kiss. “Fuck, Sherlock, beautiful, you’re beautiful.”

Then Sherlock realised John was still rock hard, he hadn’t come yet. So Sherlock grabbed his arse cheeks again, dug his finger in them and tugged him closer even more, spurring him on to restart thrusting.

“Come on, John.” He lifted his head up and pressed his lips against John’s. Then he felt John’s whole body stiffen, nearly every muscle in his body reacting to his orgasm. After that he sunk down onto Sherlock’s body, burying his face in Sherlock’s neck, giving him some sloppy kisses in that general area. 

It took some time but after a while Sherlock really needed to breathe again and so John had to move. 

“John?” 

“Mhm?” Sherlock guessed John had already been half asleep.

“Can you move?”

“Oh, myeah.” He moved himself to the right a bit and then just kind of slid off Sherlock’s body. When he did, the air hit the wet spot on Sherlock’s pants and he realised he needed to take them off before the semen would cool and start to harden. So he pulled them down and threw them in the general area of his bathroom. He looked over at John, who was still not doing much, except sleeping. 

“Do you want to take your pants off?”

“Mmm,” was all the reaction Sherlock got. So he reached over to John’s pants and started tugging them off. Even then, John’s reaction was minimal so Sherlock just carried on, the only thing John did was lift his hips, just a tiny bit so Sherlock could easily tug his pants down. 

Sherlock didn’t realise was he was doing until he was face to face with John’s penis. It was flaccid and there really just wasn’t much to look at, like any other flaccid cock, but it was John’s and Sherlock was already fascinated by it. He stared at it for a while, appreciating John’s trimmed pubic hair, the drop of semen that was stuck in between the hairs, the colour of his pubic hair and the colour of his slightly reddened cock due to the rubbing from mere minutes ago. He hadn’t realised he was staring at it until John started squirming. Sherlock thought he must be cold so he straightened himself to lie next to him on the bed, facing him directly and then tugged the covers up, enveloping them both in their shared warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? 
> 
> I promise I work on this story weekly and that I will not leave this story unfinished, so stay in the loop, peeps! 
> 
> You can also always follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.allthingsjohnlockao3.tumblr.com) for some personal updates or just more Johnlock.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shower sex and apartment hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you. This chapter is mostly sex.  
> Just a heads up.
> 
> Enjoy lovely dirty minds.

John felt Sherlock trying to wake him before he actually heard him try. He felt the bed dip next to his hip and then he felt kisses trail from his forehead down over his brow, kissing both closed eyes, the tip of his nose and then down to his jaw and his neck. That’s when he truly started waking up, the feeling becoming too ticklish. 

“John, wake up.” He heard Sherlock mumble, his lips restricted from articulating like he normally would because he was busy pressing his lips to John’s neck. 

John groaned. Not because he was tired or because he’d been woken up rudely, quite the opposite in fact, but because he wanted to lie in this cocoon that smelled like Sherlock for the rest of his life, preferably with Sherlock snuggled in close beside him, or on top of him, or underneath him, as long as he was close. So he grabbed the first thing he could reach that belonged to Sherlock’s body and pulled him closer. 

“I don’t want to wake up. I want to snuggle.” He pulled the covers away and tugged Sherlock against him and then let the covers fall over them again. John was lying on his side, spooning Sherlock. He pulled him even closer and buried his nose in the curls at the nape of Sherlock’s neck. He took a deep breath and then let out a satisfied moan. 

“While I’d love to snuggle here with you all day, remember that we do have an appointment at ten.”

“Right.” 

It was three weeks after Sherlock’s mom’s surprise visit to the boys and in the meantime she’d managed to get in touch with Mrs Hudson and arrange a meeting at the apartment in London. 

“What time is it?”

“Nine.” 

“Ah.”

“Come on, let’s have a quick shower.”

Although John was pretty excited to go check out the apartment he couldn’t help but let out an frustrated huff as Sherlock left the bed with all his snuggle-ability and warmth and John was left cold and lonely. John finally opened his eyes and was treated to a nice view of Sherlock, clad only in his boxer briefs, slipping inside the bathroom. Right before Sherlock went out of view he called over his shoulder. “Come on lazy-bum, I’ll give you a treat if you come join me now.”

That sure spiked John’s interest. He moved to the side of the bed and was able to look inside the bathroom a little more. Sherlock hadn’t closed the door behind him and John could see him pull his pants down and step out of them before stepping into the walk-in shower. The only barrier between Sherlock and John’s lustful eyes was a glass wall. So really there was no partition at all, John could see everything and Sherlock took advantage of that to lure John into the shower with him. Sherlock started the water, waited a second for the water to become warm enough and then stepped under the spray. So far John was only able to see Sherlock’s backside, which he very much appreciated. 

Sherlock’s back was a piece of art, it really was. Although John often found Sherlock too skinny, and it wouldn’t hurt him to gain a pound or ten. The fact was that his back revealed that he was still a healthy specimen of a man. There was no fat whatsoever but there were muscles, and they just did John in. Sherlock’s back was perfectly smooth and when John brushed his hands over it he could feel every dip and rise of his muscles. He loved to feel them tense and relax when they were rutting against each other. He loved running his finger all the way down the dip of his spine. But most of all he loved Sherlock’s lower back, where his back showed two dimples and where his muscles come together to form the top of his buttocks. He remembered layering the dimples with kisses when he was discovering Sherlock’s entire body with his tongue just last week. 

He was pulled out of that lovely memory when he saw Sherlock lathering himself with soap, his hands roaming smoothly over his entire body. That’s when John found himself leaving the bed, and joining his boyfriend in the shower. 

When Sherlock heard him approaching he sighed. “Finally.” He turned around when he felt John behind him. 

“What on earth took you so long?”

John couldn’t answer. He was speechless and blown away by Sherlock’s beauty. 

“Sorry, I was appreciating your body from afar. God, you’re gorgeous.” 

“You don’t have to from afar. You can appreciate it from up close. In fact. The closer, the better.”

Sherlock’s hair was plastered to his forehead, his curls elongated by the weight of the water, accentuating his high cheekbones. His hair darker than usual, leaving his white and smooth skin even more marble-like. A slight pink blush came to Sherlock’s cheeks after John’s appraisal and the heat of the shower. John raised his hand to stroke his hair out of his eyes, leaned up and kissed Sherlock’s reddened skin and then moved towards his lips. Kissing them gently at first and then hardening the kiss and making the atmosphere fiery hot in the wet shower. 

Sherlock turned John around, moving them both underneath the spray. Kissing was now mostly impossible, due to the water cascading down on them, mingling with their saliva in their mouths. Sherlock laughed at the awkwardness of it and pulled away a little. 

“That doesn’t really work, does it?”

John smiled. “I guess not”

They smiled at each other, gazing into each other’s eyes, enjoying the moment when all of a sudden Sherlock exclaimed:

“I have a better idea.”

And before John knew what was happening Sherlock was on his knees eyeing John’s penis with a frown on his face.

“Sherlock?” John asked bewildered, wanting to formulate an actual sentence like ‘What are you doing,’ but finding himself unable to do so.

“Can I?” Sherlock asked in return.

John didn’t really know what Sherlock was asking but anything involving his boyfriend and his penis was okay with him, so he nodded his approval.

John wasn’t fully hard yet, but the seeing his boyfriend naked and the kissing had him moving in that direction. 

Sherlock hadn’t been so close to John’s penis before. John had given Sherlock a blowjob that one time, last week when he was exploring Sherlock’s body. But Sherlock had only touched John’s privates with his hands, making him come with hand jobs only. He was uncertain and nervous now, afraid he was going to be bad at it. So he started slowly. Kissing John’s upper thighs, licking where his leg joined his torso, moving his hands towards John’s butt and cupping his buttocks, doing all this to work up the courage to actually touch John’s penis with his tongue. Soon though, he was distracted by something poking him in his neck. He leaned back and was face to face with a full hard-on.

“John?” he said quizzically. “You’re hard but I haven’t even touched it yet.” He said with another frown on his face, is if that was the weirdest thing ever.

“Well yeah,” he huffed, “seeing you there and kissing me there, it feels so nice, Sherlock.”

“But I haven’t done anything yet.” He looked up at John, who was blushing furiously, being it from the heat of the shower, the arousal or a bit of embarrassment, Sherlock couldn’t tell. 

“I know, it’s the anticipation Sherlock and you’re really turning me on. Please, just keep going,” he panted while shutting his eyes. John added another more desperate ‘please’. 

Seeing John in such a state gave Sherlock more confidence. If he was able to succumb John to such a mess without even touching where he’d wanted it most then he couldn’t be so bad. 

He grabbed the base of John’s cock, something he actually had done and before thinking more about it he licked a long stroke from its base to its tip. It went really smoothly, thanks to the water and Sherlock found it didn’t taste weird either, so he did it again, and again, until John was moaning above him. 

Sherlock leaned away a bit and looked up at John’s face. He wasn’t watching Sherlock, in fact, he was watching everywhere except at Sherlock, which was fine by him, it always made him a bit nervous and mess things up when people watched him. He looked back down at John’s penis and started stroking it with his hand, the water making the movement wet and slick. He heard John hiss and glanced up quickly, just to check if John was still looking away. He was. This was an excellent opportunity to really study John’s dick for the fist time. 

It was like a model penis. ‘John should be in porn’, was Sherlock’s first thought, but then he quickly changed his mind. This dick was his, and his alone. It wasn’t outspokenly large or small, just regular sized. But with a shape and girth so perfect you want to lick it at every given opportunity. You want to know how it feels like being inside you, how it feels when you wrap your lips around it, how soft the glans are when you move your tongue over them. And you’re gagging to know just what it tastes like.

Above him, John was still panting, hissing and making needy sounds. By now, Sherlock was so emboldened and horny himself that he decided to end this quickly. So he lifted his eyes to John and spoke.

“John.”

“Mhm?”

“John, look at me.”

And then, the second John opened his eyes to look at his boyfriend, Sherlock opened his mouth and took John in as far as he was able. 

John let out the filthiest groan he’d ever heard and started mumbling an array of half finished sentences and words.

“Ah… ah… oh… Sher… ah… Fuck… shhh… ah… feels… so… good”

Every suck of Sherlock’s mouth earned him a little word or a part of a sentence. By that point John was really trying not to come yet, wanting to drag it out, but the control over his body was minimal. He scrambled behind him, trying to keep his balance by groping the wall, the build-in shampoo holders or the glass walls but the grip was too slippery. He grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders in stead, digging his fingers in and holding on for dear life. 

When Sherlock felt John’s hand land on his shoulder, he was surprised by John’s touch. He’d been craving it without realising. Though now he knew how much he needed it, he wanted John’s hand somewhere else. So with his free hand that wasn’t holding John’s cock he grabbed the hand and led it towards his hair. He loved it when John touched him there. He had loved it since the first time it happened: that one morning, ages ago in Sherlock’s old bedroom. Sherlock knew John had a little thing for his hair so he guessed John was losing it up there. He gave a few more sucks while John was clutching his hair tighter and tighter into a fist and then all of a sudden John was pulling him up, mostly by his hair. 

“Get up here.” He almost growled and then nearly threw him against the glass shower wall. John kissed him like he hadn’t done before, so needy, vigorously and hungry that Sherlock’s knees almost gave out. John’s one hand stayed fisted in his hair for now while his other hand trailed down and caught both their cocks in his grip. He started pumping like a madman while pulling Sherlock’s head to the right and then licking and sucking down Sherlock’s neck, finally letting go of his hair. Sherlock’s body was making obscene noised against the glass wall and John slid his arm around Sherlock’s waist, pulling him away from the wall slightly. 

He was still pumping them both towards heaven when he suddenly let go of their cocks. He pulled Sherlock closer to him with the arm around his waist and his other hand trailed down Sherlock’s thigh, lifting his leg up, making clear to Sherlock that he had to lift both his feet of the ground and had to curl them around John’s hips. So he did. John moved forward, successfully trapping Sherlock between himself and the wall. Seconds later John’s hand was back where Sherlock needed it most. Between them, pumping away just like it had before but with an even better angle. 

“Fucking beautiful… you… mhm…” 

“Ah… John!”

Sherlock felt he was nearing his climax, and so was John. So he tried spurring him on, because this position really couldn’t be comfortable for him. So he gripped him tighter with his legs, releasing his shoulders from most of Sherlock’s weight. 

And then, John surprised him yet again and brought him over the edge. He’d moved his arm just a fraction down and with his finger he’d touched Sherlock’s so far untouched most intimate spot and sunk his finger in.

Sherlock came shouting his name, a bit out of surprise but mostly out of pure adoration.  
This man was a god. 

John wasn’t faltered by Sherlock’s release and he kept stroking them, using Sherlock’s come to slicken his own penis and pumping more vigorously than ever. Sherlock, his body feeling well spent and tingly all over knew he could help his boyfriend to his climax. He slid both arms around John’s neck and pulled himself against him, kissing him soundly at first and then pulling back slightly so they were nose to nose. Sherlock looked into John’s eyes, feeling his breath mingling with his own and then said, in all sincerity: “Come for me.”

And he did. 

“Ah… Sherlock!”

Right before John was going to loose his balance, Sherlock untwined his legs and brought them safely to the ground. Their roles were reversed now; he took John into his arms and waited until it looked like he was steady on his feet once again. 

All the while, John was panting, cursing softly into Sherlock’s neck, leaving a kiss in its trail every time he did.

Sherlock led them back under the spray and took some soap to clean off their traces of sex and sweat. Sherlock started with himself, and when he saw John wasn’t ready to use the muscles in his arms he carried on cleaning John’s body. Under his arms, over his back, his flaccid penis and between his butt cheeks, John didn’t resist once. He did resist though when Sherlock leaned over to grab the shampoo. 

“Let me do that.”

Sherlock handed the bottle over to John, who released a whole dollop into his hands. He rubbed his hands together, making the shampoo bubble between them and then trailed his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. 

“You really like my hair.”

John smiled. “Seems so, yeah.”

“Why?”

John sniggered. “I have absolutely no idea.” He was quiet for a second, concentrating on getting the shampoo everywhere and being careful not to hurt Sherlock. “Maybe it’s because I like dark hair, or because it’s so soft and healthy. Maybe it’s because it smells so nice. Or maybe it’s because it’s so typically you and I just love every little bit about you.” 

Sherlock froze. He’d done it again. He’d said something with the L-word that was so soppy that it could even make fifteen year old girls cringe. 

“Okay, scratch that. Please delete it from your mind. Pretend I never said that. Oh. God! What is wrong with me?”

Sherlock started laughing at John’s humiliation and soon enough John joined in, he quickly lathered his own hair in shampoo and rinsed it out, followed by Sherlock. They turned the water off and started drying themselves off. 

John found his pants in his stay-over backpack but looked around Sherlock’s room for his trousers. “Sherlock, do you know where my trousers are?”

“Yeah, I think you kicked them off while we were still in the living room last night.”

John left the bedroom in search for his trousers. They weren’t in the hallway so he must’ve kicked them off even before they’d reached the hallway. He honestly couldn’t remember what happened when Sherlock and him were in the heat of the moment. But when he’d entered the living room, he didn’t have to look far. Somebody had found them already. 

“Looking for these?”

There she was again. Sherlock’s mother, pristine as ever in a lovely burgundy outfit, holding up John’s trousers. 

And there John was again, in his pants, almost entirely nude in front of his boyfriend’s mother. However, that was not what was most awkward. No, the most awkward thing was that they just had shower sex, not unquietly, as you well remember, and that Sherlock’s mother probably heard the whole thing. 

John stepped towards Sherlock’s mother to retrieve his trousers.

“Mrs Holmes, hello, I had no idea you were here already. I am so sorry about...” He waved vagely towards Sherlock’s bed and bathroom. “Please make yourself comfortable while I go murder you son.” 

“Okay, dear, I’ll see you in a minute.” She smiled and gave him a wink.

John turned around and stalked towards Sherlock’s bedroom. Sherlock was just about to button his shirt up when John walked in. He strode over to Sherlock, grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him on the bed. He straddled him, and lifted his arms above his head keeping them in place. Sherlock struggled a little trying to free his arms but when he saw John’s angry face he stopped out of fear. Had he done something bad?

“Your mother is here?” He hissed. “You are a very naughty boy, Sherlock Holmes,” and then he crushed their mouths together. 

John stopped as abruptly as he’d jumped Sherlock and Sherlock, now realising why John was upset replied: “and you’re a great fuck, John Watson.” 

John leaned down again and kissed him, more softly now. 

“That mouth of yours is truly filthy, luckily I know how to shut it up.” John grinned down at him, a smug look on his face, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend once again, biting his bottom lip.

“Come on, I don’t want to keep you mother waiting any longer.” And with that he lifted himself off Sherlock, put his trousers on and grabbed a T-shirt and sweater from Sherlock’s closet, leaving a slightly bewildered Sherlock on the bed.

***

The apartment was truly amazing. It was probably twice the size of Sherlock’s current apartment and John estimated it was probably triple the size of his and Mike’s. The facilities were great, the bathroom was clean and well equipped and the smell of freshly baked goods from the downstairs bakery hung across the entire apartment, making it smell very homily. 

John loved the fireplace and the built-in bookcase. He loved the tall windows and the high ceiling. He loved that there was plenty of light in the living room and that although they were on a busy street, there was not much noise to be heard. 

The reunion with Mrs Hudson was very pleasant. And when she’d found them kissing in the kitchen after she’d gone to fetch them some pie downstairs she nearly dropped it on the floor out of excitement and started clapping her hands like she was cheering on her biggest idols. “Oooooh”, she crooned, “I was just about to tell you there’s an upstairs bedroom, but I guess you won’t be needing that.”

“No, I guess not.” John smiled.

“Okay, well, have some of this, have another look around and then come downstairs to  
the bakery and we’ll have another chat with your mother, Sherlock.”

Mrs Hudson left them alone and they headed towards the main bedroom. John was pleasantly surprised, again. The room was big, there was plenty of room for a big bed, a big wardrobe and it had it’s own door to the bathroom. 

“Okay, imagine. Your bed here.” He gestured wide with his arms, indicating the head of bed against the bathroom wall next to the door. Your wardrobe over there and then that one standing lamp I have over here. “What do you think?”

“Sounds good, but why my bed?”

“Well, it’s big, for starters, and it’s really comfy, and I like sleeping in it.”

“And what if I want your bed instead?”

“You don’t. It’s too small. Why would you like a small bed instead?”

“A small bed has its perks.” Sherlock said with a shrug.

“I guess it does. But it’s too small and very uncomfortable, and the matrass is very old. Yours is nice and big, and there is plenty of space to do stuff and it’s just so comfy. Also yours doesn’t make squeaky noises when it’s put to good use.”

Sherlock laughed. “You’re right. Wouldn’t want to keep Mrs Hudson up all night, now, would we?” He winked at John.

John came over to where Sherlock was standing in the middle of the room and gave him a peck on the lips. “Exactly.”

“Come on.” He pulled Sherlock to the front of the flat and twirled around the main living room.

“I love it, I absolutely love it, it’s absolutely brilliant. What do you think?” He turned around quickly, facing Sherlock.

Sherlock hadn’t seen John this excited before. 

“Yeah, it’s great.” He couldn’t lie, he really could see them living there. “It’s just, isn’t it a bit much? I mean, can we afford it? We’re just students and this seems like it’s an expensive apartment. I just really don’t want to get our hopes up.” He hated bringing John’s mood down like this, but they had to be realistic.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He grabbed Sherlock’s hand. “Let’s go hear Mrs Hudson’s proposal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Hot, not so hot? Let me know!!
> 
> Or come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.allthingsjohnlockao3.tumblr.com)!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter.
> 
> Again, I'm deeply ashamed of how long this took me to finish. I hope you enjoy.

John was gobsmacked. She wasn’t being serious, was she? He glanced at his boyfriend and noticed Sherlock had the same expression on his pretty face. He looked at John and raised his eyebrows in question. He knew that it was Sherlock’s way of saying: ‘I’m letting you decide.’ So John did.

“We’ll take it.”

He didn’t really need to think about it, Mrs Hudson was practically giving them the apartment for free. She told them she needed some help in the bakery downstairs. She had been looking for some people for months now without success. They were either always unfriendly, untalented, or unreliable employees and frankly Mrs Hudson was getting sick of searching. They were her last hope, really. If they’d agree to each work in the bakery part-time they would easily able to afford the apartment together. They’d agree that John would work Wednesday’s – his class-free day – and Sunday morning and Sherlock would work all day Saturday. It did mean they weren’t really able to spend much time together in the weekend but maybe that was a good thing. Their relationship was still so new and raw; it might be a good idea to each have their own private time, either at work or alone in the apartment. And if they were to miss each other they’d only be a flight of stairs apart.

John couldn’t think of any real concerns with them moving in together, but then Sherlock asked him a question. 

“John, are you absolutely sure you want to do this with me?”

What kind of question was that? He was going to have to do something about Sherlock’s anxiety.

“I’m willing to do everything with you, Sherlock. Trust me on that.” And he gave him a sly wink. 

Sherlock couldn’t help but blush; that was a really ambiguous thing to say in front of his mother and Mrs Hudson. 

“Well,” Sherlock’s mother interrupted and looking at Mrs Hudson continued with: “I guess that settles it.”

***

It was two weeks later and John was hauling the last boxes up the stairs to 221B. They’d already moved all the big furniture the previous day. The apartment already looked like a proper home thanks to most of Sherlock’s furniture. Sherlock’s big couch, table and armchair were already in the living room, together with one of the only big and bulky possessions of John, his grandfather’s old armchair. The armchairs were complete opposites of each other. One was new, modern and black while the other was old, aged but colourful. But like John and Sherlock, somehow they fit perfectly well together. 

“Sherlock, could you help taking some of these boxes up, I’m sweating like a pig over here and you’re”, he looked over at where Sherlock was sat in his chair “… just reading?”

“I’m not just reading, I’m pretending to read while actually studying how the light comes in through the windows and then thinking on where we should place the lighting fixtures accordingly…”

John expected Sherlock to ramble on his observations on the lights but surprisingly he changed the topic. He stood up and walked over to where John had just walked through the door. 

“… and, I love it when you get sweaty. It reminds me of that time you were helping my father move.” He took the box John was holding from his hands and put it on the couch behind John. “God, I was so smitten with you back then.”

Sherlock was standing in front of him now and lifted his hands towards the zipper of John’s sweater and slowly pulled it down.

“Back then? Are you saying you’re not smitten with me now?”

“Mhm, smitten is not the term of phrase I’d use now”, he whispered into John’s ear and started kissing John’s neck. He really was a bit sweaty and the saltiness of John’s hard work was doing things for Sherlock. He licked and nibbled until John stopped him.

“Sherlock, you gotta stop.” 

“Mmm, no.”

“Yes, please, otherwise we’ll never finish moving these boxes and we only have the moving van for a couple more hours. Come on, love.” He pecked Sherlock on the lips and dragged him downstairs by his arm. 

They finished moving boxes upstairs an hour later and were now busy unpacking said boxes. All their clothes were thrown on the bed and Sherlock was busy hanging and folding each piece of clothing into their wardrobe, while John was unpacking their kitchen supplies with his more steady fingers. After another hour Sherlock came out of their new bedroom and asked for the bed linen. 

“It’s got to be in one of the boxes in the bedroom, doesn’t it?”

“I unpacked them all, it’s not there.”

“Okay, um, it’s not in these boxes either,” he nodded towards the boxes on the counter, “so it’s probably in one of the boxes over by the stairs.”

Sherlock followed John’s gaze and stepped into the hallway. He rummaged through some boxes and called out “found them‼” after opening a box that had ‘books’ written on the side. 

“They were in a box with books. Why would you put them there?” He came back to ask. 

“I didn’t put them there. It was probably Molly and Greg havin’ a laugh.” 

Sherlock scoffed. “Not very funny.” 

“I know, it’s a good thing they found each other. Need some help with those?”

“Yes, please.”

John left the teacups for what they were and followed Sherlock into the bedroom. The closet looked very orderly and clean and he knew that wasn’t going to take long before it looked a right mess with John’s and Sherlock’s clothes all mixed within in the next week. But it was still nice to see their clothes hanging together, side by side in one big wardrobe. 

“Looks good, love.”

Sherlock smiled and handed him one of the pillowcases. 

“Let’s start with the easy part.”

“Right.”

They each did their own pillow and laid them on their respective sides of the bed and then stood in front of the bed, next to each other. 

“Okay, now the difficult part.” Sherlock gave on end of the bed sheet to John. “We have to see that we do it just right, otherwise it get’s all messed up during the night and I hate that.”

John sniggered but followed Sherlock orders and after a bit of pulling and tugging the bed looked professionally made up. Their sleeping pillows were joined by a few decorative ones and then Sherlock laid down a beautiful, very soft-looking plaid across the footing of the bed. The bed looked so warm, comfortable and inviting that John couldn’t help but jump on it after a long day of hard work. He heard Sherlock protesting behind him but the bed was so comfortable that John couldn’t move just yet. After he heard Sherlock sighing for the third time John turned over and held out his hand. “Join me?” Sherlock looked at him accusingly.

“Just for a minute, love. Come.” And he patted the bed. It seemed that Sherlock was unable to protest his boyfriend’s charms and laid himself down next to him. 

“We’re dirtying the bed.” Sherlock whispered to him, the worry in his voice clear for John.

John sniggered. “I know another way to dirty this bed. One that’s more effective, too.”

He put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and moved them both so that john was covering Sherlock, making it impossible for Sherlock to move around from underneath him. John’s hands moved over Sherlock’s arms and to his wrists and he held them there, holding Sherlock hostage. Sherlock wriggled a bit but either without real intent or John’s hold was actually too strong, but john didn’t really care either way. He was going to have Sherlock in their new bed, in their newly furnished bedroom in their new flat that was entirely quiet and also pretty sound proof – Mrs Hudson had assured them.

John rose up a bit, still holding on to Sherlock’s wrists and looked straight at him. They were not quite nose-to-nose but Sherlock was cross-eyed, looking at him. John smiled and when he received one back he dove in, kissing Sherlock hard on the lips. 

Sherlock made a surprised sound but didn’t give John a chance to back off. He returned the force of the kiss and took advantage the distracted by freeing his wrists from John’s grasp and moving them to both sides of his face. He pulled John even closer, tilting his head this way and John’s head the other and deepening the kiss. Mouths opening, lips bruising, teeth scraping and tongues battling. The kiss was hard, needy and a promise for what was to come. 

John had wanted to go all the way, as they say, with Sherlock but was taking this slowly for Sherlock’s sake, he was so innocent and so pure and John had wanted to wait until they were both sure. But the fact was, John couldn’t wait any longer. It was the perfect timing, and the perfect place to take Sherlock’s virginity. John knew that sounded lame, they’d had sex plenty times before and Sherlock was hardly an actual virgin. But having penetrative sex for the first time is a big deal, it takes caring and trusting, and he believed they were there. 

Before he could take any action in suggesting this to Sherlock however, he had beaten him to it. 

“John, I’m ready.” He panted after they’d taken a quick breathing-brake. 

John – obviously knowing what he was talking about – nodded and replied “me too, I want you so badly.”

John turned his head that was still held by both Sherlock’s hands and kissed his left wrist. 

“I think we’re ready, but we gotta take it slowly. I know you, you’re impatient but you’re delicate and I don’t want to hurt you, so we are going to take our sweet-ass time. Agreed?”

John didn’t wait for an answer, got up from the bed and stumbled over to the bathroom were he rummaged for the supplies. 

He came back with a box of condoms and some lube. Good thing that the bed was right next to the doorway because when John re-entered and saw Sherlock lying on their bed he almost forgot how to walk. He stumbled into the room and threw himself on the bed with a huff.

“Gorgeous, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” 

While John had been in the bathroom, looking for supplies Sherlock had quickly torn of most of his clothes. He hadn’t been wearing many to start with, just some slacks and a t-shirt, so they had all been removed quickly. 

So now he was only wearing pants, knowing that John would love taking them off of him, and he had spread himself on their bed. 

Hence the reason John was so distracted. 

John climbed over Sherlock and seated himself on Sherlock’s thighs. He took off his own sweater and shirt and watched Sherlock’s expressions change from impatient to satisfied and then to slightly aroused, his eyes raking over every bump and dip of his torso and perfect stomach.

“John, your body…” 

His eyes flew to John’s. “I don’t understand how you can be this fit with your eating habits.” 

”It’s called sports Sherlock, you should try it sometime, that’ll give me something to grab on, too.”

He was merely teasing. Sherlock knows how much he likes his sinewy limbs, the concave of his belly and his long sensuous neck. Speaking of which, John leaned down and licked it from his collarbone to right under his right ear where he started to nibble on the lobe. He stopped suddenly when he heard what Sherlock said next.

“I’m into sports, I love this one specific activity, most of the time it requires a partner, though. I call it bed-sport. If my new roommate is willing I’d love to do some every night, or twice a night, or even three times a night, or maybe even ...” 

He was stopped by John’s lips on his. 

“You’re absolutely mental.” 

They both started giggling. 

“John, could we carry on please? I’m really quite desperate here.”

“I know, me too. Let me just…”

He leaned back on his knees and hooked his fingers under Sherlock’s pants and pulled them down ever so slowly. 

Sherlock, being quite impatient, wiggled his hips in the hope off fastening this up a bit. When his penis slipped free John leant down and kissed it, first on the shaft and then more delicately on the tip, giving it small licks and kisses while still pulling Sherlock’s pants down to his ankles. 

When his arm was fully extended down and he was unable to pull them further down Sherlock’s endless legs while loving on his penis at the same time, he sat up, pushed the pants off of Sherlock’s feet and threw them across the room, not caring in the slightest where they might end up. 

John picked up one of Sherlock’s ankles and started kissing the sole of the foot. Sherlock, being a little ticklish, squirmed and stretched his foot, making his legs even longer. John raised the foot he was holding and ducked underneath it so that he was crouched in the V of Sherlock’s long legs. He brought the foot he was still holding back to his mouth and started kissing up Sherlock’s leg; from the inside of his ankle, to his calf, to his knee, to his thigh and then edging closer and closer to his groin. 

When he got back to Sherlock’s penis, now fully hard he started where he’d left off before they got rid of his pants. He planted little kisses up Sherlock’s shaft and then placed his lips over Sherlock’s glands. He sucked slightly and very delicately. He didn’t want to go too far with this. He just wanted to get Sherlock as turn on and as relaxed as possible so that he wouldn’t freak out when John put a finger up his butt.

He pulled his mouth off of Sherlock and held out his hand. “Lube please.” 

He heard Sherlock grunting but didn’t have to wait too long before he felt the tube being placed into his hand. He flipped the cap open and poured some on his fingers, rubbing them together and placing them where he had never touched Sherlock before. He felt Sherlock clench his buttocks at the touch.

“Try to relax,” he whispered, voice gruff from arousal. 

He placed his mouth back on Sherlock’s erection, trying to give him as much pleasure as possible. He gave Sherlock’s cock a good suck and then started circling Sherlock’s entrance. Slowly wetting the delicate flesh, making sure Sherlock got used to the new feeling at his most intimate part. 

After a minute he gave another good suck and then slipped his finger inside Sherlock; just the one and only as far as the first knuckle. He looked up at Sherlock, checking if he was still okay. His neck was craned backwards and John could tell his eyes were closed, either in concentration, pleasure or pain. 

“Hey, you okay?”

“Fine, keep going.”

He knew sex wasn’t always pain free, definitely not this kind of sex. He had done his research though so he thought of the two most important advices he read” 1. Take your time and 2. Use plenty of lube.

He took is finger out, applied another nice amount of lube on is fingers and place them back on Sherlock, pushing his finger in, and right back out. 

He kept fingering Sherlock, slowly inching further in until he heard Sherlock trying to say something. 

“Another.”

He added more lube and then placed both finger on Sherlock’s hole before pushing in. There wasn’t too much resistance but that didn’t mean Sherlock wasn’t hurting. John kissed his upper thighs and looked up again. John could see the sweat on Sherlock’s forehead and chest. He was clearly being affected by what John was doing, the sweat, the panting, the biting on his lips. It was a delicious sight for John.

“Does is feel good?”

“Mhm,” was all the response he got. 

“Sherlock, I don’t know what that means, should I stop?”

“No! Keep going. Please.”

“Okay.” He concentrated again on pumping in and out of Sherlock. The sight of his fingers entering Sherlock was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. All of a sudden he realised that he was actually still wearing trousers. He wanted to get them off but didn’t want to interrupt Sherlock’s pleasure so he tried unbuttoning his trousers with one hand, he realised he was unable to pull off his on trousers without any help so he just pulled in down a bit and freed his own cock. He gave himself a few tugs before he concentrated back on Sherlock who finally seemed to be giving into the pleasure. John noticed that Sherlock had taken himself in hand, allowing himself a good stroke now and again. He was panting loudly, moaning when John reached a good spot inside him. 

This was an excellent time to add another finger. Sherlock moaned when he felt the stretch. John pulled Sherlock’s hand from his penis and started kissing it again, leaving Sherlock’s pleasure all in John’s experienced hands. After a few minutes Sherlock spoke again.

“John, I think I’m ready, could you come up here please, I don’t like not touching you.”

Although John could keep fingering Sherlock for an eternity it probably wasn’t wise to keep stalling, and he really couldn’t say no to Sherlock. So he pulled out his fingers, quickly got rid of his trousers and pants and positioned himself over Sherlock who swung his arms and legs over his boyfriend as soon as he could. 

“You look very aroused,” is what John said then. 

“Mhm, probably because I am very aroused.”

“So I assume you liked that?”

“Yes I did, now please put your cock in me, I’ve been patient enough.” 

John reached for the condoms, made quick work of putting it on and then covered himself with a ridiculous amount of lube, almost emptying the tube. 

Sherlock snorted and pulled John closer by clamping his arms and legs tighter around him.

“Come on, just do it.”

“Okay.”

John looked between them, took himself in hand, lined himself up and then slowly pushed in. He watched Sherlock’s face carefully, waiting for any signs of pain or discomfort but Sherlock’s face was just a blank slate with slightly raised eyebrows and he was looking straight at him. Meanwhile John was slowly losing his mind. The fact that he was in Sherlock was baffling to him. It felt so good, it was so intimate, so erotic, and it was a feeling he’d never felt before, not with anyone. 

When he thought he could go no further he slumped down a bit and breathed into Sherlock’s neck. “Sherlock,” he sighed. After a minute he felt Sherlock’s breath in his own neck, he was trying to say something. John pulled away a bit to look into his eyes. 

Sherlock tried again.

“Move… please.”

“Okay, okay, hold on… okay.” He settled himself a bit better, so he could support his own weight and even by this small movement he felt himself move inside Sherlock, and apparently Sherlock felt it too. 

“Ah.”

“Okay, here I go.”

They looked each other in the eye. John inhaled and exhaled quickly as if he was spurring himself on.“Okay.” And then he moved, very slowly and hesitantly, and slid back in. 

“God, John, I’m not made of glass, just move already.”

John huffed and planted a kiss on Sherlock’s lips. “Fine, your way, always your way.” He really started moving now, not roughly but not exactly tentatively either. Sherlock was huffing and puffing underneath him, enjoying himself, or so it seemed. He could hear their bodies slap together, the large amount of lube making the movement easy and delicious.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

John leaned onto his right side, settling his elbow next to Sherlock’s left shoulder. His now free left hand groped Sherlock’s right thigh and hiked it higher on is side, changing the angle minutely.

Apparently it wasn’t so minute for Sherlock because he let out a choked gasp. 

“Ah, John.” He was really starting to sweat now; he felt his curls starting to stick to his forehead, felt beads of sweat gather in the dip between his collarbones. John, leaning down again, planted a kiss on the path of one of the drops and licked it’s way back up to the back of his ear. 

“Your sweat does something to me, I can’t describe it.” He whispered hotly into Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock didn’t really know if he was being serious or if this was his way of dirty talking but he liked it either way. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I love the taste, it’s all you, I love how it makes your curls stick to your forehead, and I especially love it because I’m the cause of it. You’re so hot and desperate, all for me.”

Okay, dirty talk then, Sherlock liked it. A lot.

“Ah John, don’t stop.”

“Am I making you feel good? Are you going to come? Tell me when you’re near. I can’t wait to see your face when you come, you’re mouth forms the perfect ‘O’. Oh, God, your mouth. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, it should be banned from the outside world because it’s too erotic to be seen in public. I should keep it in here, in our apartment and have my way with it every night. Kissing it. Filling it with my cock. Fucking it for hours and hours. ”

Sherlock was having trouble concentrating on hearing what John was talking about. His pleasure was almost erupting. He started grabbing everything and anything he could get his hands on, John’s flexing ass, John’s solid shoulders, John’s muscly upper arms, as long it was John, he wanted to touch it. His moans and whines were getting louder and he started thrusting his own hips, however possible, to make John slide in even more. 

John knew Sherlock was getting close so he inched one of his hands towards Sherlock’s cock and started stroking is leaking erection. Slowly at first, not wanting to overwhelm him too quickly. But after a while he started gripping it tighter and started using the precome to make it slide more. He started stroking at an equal pace to his thrusting and knew it wasn’t going to take much longer. 

“John! John! John! Almost. Keep going, come on.”

That was the last thing he was able to pronounce correctly, after that it was just a lot of ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s and after a few more minutes of John pumping his cock and driving into him like a maniac, John could feel Sherlock’s body convulsing around him. Sherlock craned his neck, elongating it to it’s full extent, his head almost buried into the pillow, but John could still see his perfect mouth and those perfect lips forming that ‘O’ and then he felt Sherlock’s come between his fingers. He looked down to the most erotic sight he knew he’d ever see: Sherlock’s come splattering over his torso. He couldn’t hold on much longer and then gave himself over to the feeling of Sherlock’s body, and came inside him. 

He stayed there for as long as his climax was washing over him, then he slumped down a bit onto Sherlock still not pulling out, but just breathing. He buried his face in Sherlock’s neck and just breathed him in. Sherlock was still catching his breath so John was moving up and down a bit, following Sherlock’s heaving chest. 

He pulled out when he could feel himself turning soft, slowly again, not wanting to hurt Sherlock, he pulled the condom off, tied it and threw it next to the bed. Only then did he dare watch into Sherlock eyes. There was a satisfied smirk on his face, he returned the smirk and laid himself next to him so that they were facing each other. 

Sherlock broke the silence. “So, dirty talk.” 

John sniggered. “Apparently, yes. ”

They just smiled at each other like two goofy loons, their happiness and satisfaction obvious on their face. John pulled Sherlock closer to him and kissed his forehead. 

“I think it’s safe to say that I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“Is that so? Please explain yourself.”

John took on a very serious tone as if he was reciting a presentation for a class.

“Well, you see, I’m doing well in school, I like my job, I live is a nice apartment in the middle of London and I get to fuck my beautiful boyfriend every day.” 

“And I have it on good authority that your boyfriend would like that very much. But do you know what the best part in all this is?”

“No, enlighten me.”

“There’s no more rule nr. 8.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was it. It's finished. I hope you enjoyed, if so leave me a kudos or a comment and come visit me on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I do hope you liked it. 
> 
> Leave me a comment, like it, bookmark it. Do whatever the hell you want but if you do leave any form of feedback that'll be greatly appreciated, it really helps with motivation. 
> 
> Come visit me on my [tumblr](www.allthingsjohnlockao3.tumblr.com)


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